


Matchmaker's Glory

by vilia



Series: Legacy of Glory [2]
Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Canon Compliant, Idiots in Love, M/M, Modern Era, Mutual Pining, Post 5X13, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-18
Updated: 2018-07-14
Packaged: 2019-03-20 14:06:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 30,107
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13719267
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vilia/pseuds/vilia
Summary: As Arthur struggles to define his evolving relationship with Merlin in modern terms, an opportunity arises to rid himself of the attentions of his unwanted admirer, the reincarnated Lady Vivian. He jumps at the chance, not realizing just how difficult it will be. Inspired, in part, by the Arthurian tale of Culhwch and Owlen.





	1. The Invitation Incident

**Author's Note:**

> This is a direction continuation of part 1 of this series, so please read From the Shadow of Glory first.

“Will I have to wear a tie?” Merlin said, looking up from whatever he was reading on his laptop.

They both sat on the couch, Arthur at one end, pretending to watch the nightly news, Merlin sitting sideways at the other end, taking up the room in the middle with his long legs.

 _“If_ I go, I mean.”

Arthur grimaced, replaying in his head how he’d got himself into this mess.

               _You’ll be coming along, of course._

It wasn’t exactly the gentlemanly invitation to the police fundraising gala he’d been going for. He’d just opened his mouth and the command came spewing out. No reason to change course now though; the damage was already done.

“You’re coming, Merlin. I’m not suffering through the evening alone while you spend the time relaxing at home.”

“Why don’t you take a proper date?”

Arthur suppressed a frown at Merlin’s immediate dismissal of himself as a proper date. He’d already reached the conclusion that it was going to take some convincing to get Merlin to a place where he took Arthur’s advances seriously. He was prepared for that. He was ready to put in his full effort. To date, those efforts hadn’t amounted to much. He’d noticed that whenever he made any sort of gesture that hinted at what he wanted, Merlin pulled away. Things went better when he left Merlin to his own devices, so his strategy since moving Merlin into his flat had been to give the man subtle encouragement. He still wasn’t getting the results he wanted.

Maybe he was misreading their interactions. Maybe Merlin had spent so long idealizing him that now Arthur couldn’t live up to his expectations. Maybe Arthur was just being a coward.

He knew what he had to do. What he needed was a deadline, consequences. The gala worked well enough for the deadline. It gave him a little over a week to figure out how to say what he wanted. As for consequences—

“I’m sure you could find a woman willing to accompany you.”

—maybe being forced to hear more of Merlin’s terrible suggestions would be consequence enough.

“You’ve got that...” Merlin gestured vaguely at Arthur’s person.

“What’s that supposed to mean? That I’m handsome and charming?” He gave Merlin his most winning smile.

Merlin wrinkled his nose. “You give the _appearance_ of princely charm, maybe.”

“What about my boorish manners? You complain about them often enough. Are you trying to inflict me on an unsuspecting lady?”

“Fine. Take Veronica then. She might have been royalty once, but whatever her title, I don’t think she’s ever qualified as a true lady.”

That was fair enough. Veronica was every bit as rude and annoying as she’d been as the Lady Vivian.

“I see your sense of humour is as dull as ever.” There was no point in giving Merlin more time to argue. “And yes, you have to wear a tie. Don’t go overboard though. A nice suit in a dark colour will suffice.”

“Pendragon red then, my lord?” Merlin extended his foot to poke Arthur in the thigh.

And this was one of those moments. Was Merlin simply horsing around? Was he flirting? Arthur just didn’t know.

What he wanted to do was grab the offending foot, use it to slide Merlin’s whole body down toward his end of the couch. Merlin would protest, and Arthur would have to wrestle him into submission. All in good fun of course. They would both be laughing and hurling insults so well-worn they felt more like endearments. Back near the end in Camelot, he wouldn’t have hesitated. Not if they’d been alone. Now, he second guessed every impulse that involved physical touch and even some that didn’t.

Instead, Arthur reached across Merlin’s legs, spun his laptop around. “What are you so interested in reading over here anyway? You’re the one that thinks we should be watching the news and you’re not even trying to pay attention.” Not that Arthur was paying attention himself. Even if this prophesied time of great need was already here, learning about it on the telly was unlikely to do much good.

The website that greeted Arthur’s eyes was not what he’d been expected. He’d imagined it would be something at least vaguely entertaining. Instead, it was a text-heavy page with the title “The Lancet” at the top and a lot of technical lingo that was only meant to be read by medical researchers and doctors. “Bronchopulmonary dysplasia? What is this?”

“It’s a medical journal.” Merlin turned his laptop back around and continued reading. “It’s research for Regan.”

“But… Whatever you do to help her is going to use magic, right? Why bother with medical research?”

“The better I understand the physical problems, the easier it is for me to develop a magical treatment.”

“Well don’t spend all your time on research. You’re going to need to get your suit situation all taken care of.”

-x-x-

The first thing that Robert said when Arthur arrived at work was, “Another report of blood in a stream today.”

This was getting out of hand. “What is that, the third report this month?”

Robert nodded and brushed aside a vine that was infringing on his workspace from the potted plant at the corner of his desk. “Fifth report so far.”

“Liam says they’re getting similar reports in the Dyfed-Powys offices.”

Owen’s initial theory, that the calls were a series of pranks, had already been ruled out. The callers were unconnected and had happily answered questions. The working theory at the moment was that someone was dumping some sort of industrial waste into local waterways instead of disposing of it properly. They’d already contacted the local NRW office, but results of the water quality tests were still pending.

“Speaking of Liam, had any progress on that museum case?”

“Not a bit. It’s been officially shuffled to the back of the pile now. I’ve got half a dozen fresh cases to worry about before the trails go cold.”

Robert nodded in sympathy. That was one of the hardest parts of the job. New cases were constantly coming in and they couldn’t all be solved. Unofficially, he was still trying to work the case on his own time, but he had little to go on.

Arthur threw himself into his work and when he next checked the clock, it was already time for lunch. He stood, stretched his arms above his head, and saw Veronica talking with one of their regular volunteers at the front desk. He had the sudden impulse to hide but wasn’t fast enough. It was as if she had radar that detected him no matter how crowded a room or how busy she was with something else. She waved at him, a soppy smile on her face. Best to deal with this head on. He grimaced and walked up to the front where she was being issued a visitor’s badge.

“Ah, Detective Sergeant Craddock,” the volunteer said. “I was about to let your lovely guest back to see you.”

“No need,” Arthur gritted out between clenched teeth.

He grabbed her upper arm and pulled her toward the door.

“Hey!”

“What on earth are you doing here?”

She smiled sweetly up at him. “It’s a lovely day outside. I thought we could have a picnic.”

Arthur forced his clenched fists to relax.

“We are _not_ eating lunch together.”

“But look.” She hefted the basket in her arms. “I brought your favorites!”

“You can’t just interrupt my day like this. It’s rude and quite frankly, annoying.”

She frowned. “I wanted to surprise you. That’s what a good girlfriend does!”

Arthur ran a hand across his face. “I’ve told you a hundred times. You. Are not. My. Girlfriend. You never will be.”

She looked down and for a moment, Arthur felt bad to have hurt her feelings. Then she rallied.

“You still have to eat.”

“I already have plans to meet someone else for lunch,” he lied.

Veronica turned up her nose. “Tell me you don’t mean _Merlin_.” She laced the name with equal parts derision and disgust.

Arthur had no such plans but felt no reason to cater to her wishes.

“He’s using you. You know that, right?”

Arthur laughed. Of all the people in the world to accuse of working at odds to him!

“Merlin is my friend. If you don’t like that, feel free to transfer any and all negative feelings you hold for him to me as well. He’s not going anywhere.”

“He should. He’s draining all your energy. I swear you look like you’ve aged a decade since he showed up.”

Arthur didn’t bother trying to argue. She wasn’t entirely wrong. According to legal documents, he was twenty-four years old. But that was only because he’d had an age regression spell cast on him by some goddess of the Old Religion. It would have been fine too, except for all the pain and confusion that came when he’d struggled against the spell to remember his time in Camelot.

He’d been forced to plead with Merlin to remove the spell, but all he’d really done was summon the goddess and request that she undo her handiwork prematurely. It was still hard to believe that Merlin had the power to convince a divine being to do as he asked. Merlin had later confessed that he was nervous about it. Said he didn’t like feeling indebted to her. What if she called on him to return the favour someday? Arthur wasn’t so worried. Merlin had called upon the same goddess to help Guinevere back home and she hadn’t asked for anything in return for that.

With the spell lifted, Arthur’s memories were now functioning normally, and his body was restored to the age he’d been before he’d died. Which in a matter of moments had made him effectively six years older than everyone thought he was. It had taken him a while to get used to the added age in the mirror. It wasn’t drastic, but it was noticeable, particularly when he looked close up. A few barely visible creases marked the skin at the corners of his eyes, and he’d immediately plucked the single grey hair that he’d found above his temple.

Veronica shifted her weight to her opposite leg, moved her free hand to her hip.

She hadn’t been home when they’d moved Merlin’s things into the flat and Arthur had to wonder just how poorly she was going to react when she finally realized that Merlin was her newest neighbour, and not simply a long-term guest.

“You need to leave now.”

She tipped her chin up. “One day, you’ll be sorry you rejected me. You’ll realize how perfect we are for each other, and you’ll be begging me to forgive you!” With that, she turned and left.

Arthur let out a heavy sigh. She talked big, but in a few days, maybe a week, she’d be back to her usual self. She hadn’t always been this annoying, but ever since Merlin came back into his life, she’d been ten times worse. Arthur figured she sensed competition.

He stalked back to the mess room where Owen and Ben were already pulling out their lunches from the refrigerator. Ben still had bandages on his right arm, though they’d been downgraded from the thick, bulky bandages he’d worn when Arthur visited him in hospital. Ben’s encounter with Rhett Garr had cost him a hand, but it could have ended much worse. Garrett and Gwyneth hadn’t been so lucky.

Ben never complained and had taken to using his left like he’d never known any different. Arthur had initially assumed that he’d been left handed before the incident, but apparently that wasn’t so.

Arthur’s boss hadn’t been happy about his breach of protocol, but nearly everyone else thought Arthur was a hero for fending off a knife wielding murderer with only what he’d been able to find laying on the ground. No one else knew that Merlin had helped him out, temporarily modifying a cumbersome log into a manageable staff. It bothered him that Merlin was still able to work magic right under his nose without him noticing right away.

“Who was that I saw you talking with just now?” Ben said as he flipped the lid of the pepper container and shook out a bit of the spice onto a plate of unappetizing looking leftovers. Arthur wasn’t sure what it was, though it smelled pleasant enough.

“My annoying neighbour.”

“She didn’t look like a neighbour. I thought she was bringing you lunch.”

“She was, but I’m not eating with her. I have no interest in her at all. I keep telling her, but she fails to care.”

“Oh, I thought she might be your girlfriend. My wife’s been on me again to set you up with this friend of hers. She thinks you need to be married.”

Cade entered the room. “What’s James need a wife for? He’s got Merlin.”

Arthur spluttered for a response.

“What?” Ben laughed.

“Didn’t you see them together at Garrett’s funeral?” Cade turned to Arthur. “He was straightening your tie for you.”

“And fixing your hair,” Owen said.

“That’s just how Merlin is.”

“Didn’t see him acting like that with anyone else,” Cade mumbled under his breath.

Arthur chose to ignore the comment. He retrieved his own lunch and sat down at one of the tables with the other three men to eat.

Arthur had something of a ploughman’s lunch, with leftover ham from earlier in the week, cheese, bread, and raw vegetables because Merlin thought his diet wasn’t healthy enough. The best part of course was the pickled egg. He still loved these. No one made them quite like they used to in Camelot anymore. No one but Merlin that is.

When Arthur first saw them sitting in the refrigerator a couple of weeks ago, his eyes had gone wide and he’d been tempted to fish one out of the jar right then. Merlin had very nearly smacked his fingers, saying they weren’t ready yet, but when they finally were… It had been his first taste of home in 15 years, or 1500 years, depending on how you looked at it.

“Merlin make those for you?” Cade said, pointing at the last bit of egg in Arthur’s hand.

Arthur gave a heavy sigh and rolled his eyes. “Yes.”

“Explain again how he’s not your boyfriend?”

“Merlin does most of the cooking. He’s better at it. I clean up the kitchen. That’s how it works.”

“I don’t see how that helps your case at all,” Ben said. “That’s the same division of labour my wife and I use.”

“I don’t know how I can explain this any more clearly. Merlin is not my boyfriend.”

“You sure?”

“I think I would know if he were.”

Even neglecting the fact that they weren’t physically involved, Merlin would never be his _boyfriend_. Tweens used that word for the boy they secretly held hands with in the canteen then refused to speak to after their friends found out. Adults sometimes used it for relationships that didn’t last a week. There were people out there that couldn’t remember the names of all their past boyfriends, or even how many they’d had. A word used so flippantly could never be sufficient to describe all that Merlin was to him. The man had stuck by his side even as Arthur blundered his way through mistake after mistake. He’d watched over his grave for centuries, waiting for the seemingly impossible. “Boyfriend” was entirely inadequate. He needed a better word, but was at a loss as to what it might be.

Owen saved him from more personal questions. “So that woman that came to visit you… What’s her name?” 

“Veronica Hart.”

“That’s a nice name. Is she fit?”

“Sure she is. Beautiful, I’d say,” Cade said. Ben agreed.

“It’s not fair. You’ve got more women than you want, and I haven’t got any. She sounds perfectly lovely to me. She’s working hard to earn you affection. Maybe you don’t like the way she’s going about it, but to me that just means she’s dedicated. I like that in a woman.”

“Yeah, well, maybe I’ll introduce you sometime if you like her so much.”

“Are you kidding? That’d be great!”

He had meant it in jest, but that was because he couldn’t fathom anyone seriously wanting to take on her deranged mind. He quickly revised his opinion.

“Next chance I get.”

-x-x-

Arthur waited to pick up his mail until 6 o’clock because that was when Veronica got home. He had her schedule memorized so that he could avoid her as much as possible.

“James!” she crooned.

“I’m glad I caught you this evening.”

She beamed up at him.

“There’s something I wanted to discuss with you.”

“Yes?” She fluttered her eyelashes. No doubt she thought he was about to ask her on a date.

“I want to introduce you to someone.” Before she could even get a word out, he clarified. “Not as my girlfriend.” Her smile fell. “One of my friends at work, Owen, wants to meet you. I think you’ll really like him if you give him a fair chance.”

She glared at him. “I’m not interested in being set up. I’m—"

He cut her off before she descended into the same speech she always gave about how they were destined for each other. There was a time when he would have laughed at the whole notion of destiny. With his experience, he couldn’t do that anymore, but though he might be destined for someone, that person was certainly not Veronica.

“You have zero chance with me. You need to move on. I’m trying to help you.”

“Help me?”

Arthur nodded.

“You’re saying you only have my best interest at heart in this matter?”

“That’s what I’m saying, yes.”

“Hmm…” She looked down at the floor, maybe trying to hide the small smile that was creeping across her face. “Okay then—”

Before Arthur had a chance to breathe a sigh of relief, she said, “I just have a few small conditions first.”

Arthur narrowed his eyes. “What conditions?”

“I need you to prove your goodwill. You’ll do that by completing a few favours for me. If it’s truly my happiness you have in mind, this won’t be a problem for you.” Her grin burst into full view.

“I’m going to need a few more details.”

“Maybe…” She paused to consider her options. “Maybe you could help me with my laundry.”

“I’m not washing your underthings.”

“You have a very dirty mind, James Craddock. I was thinking of the ironing. And maybe washing the dishes. Just little things, see? Nothing too difficult.”

“So basically, you want me to be your servant.”

“Call it what you like. I prefer to think of it as helping a friend.”

“Servant,” Arthur insisted.

She thought on that. “Well, servants are supposed to care for their masters.”

“Only the good ones,” Arthur said without thought.

“Yes. Quite right. So I suppose it will be an adequate test for you.”

“For how long?”

“One month.”

“How about one day?”

“Two weeks.”

“ _One_ week, not a second more, and the time starts right now.” He needed to be done with this before the gala.

“Fine,” Veronica said, “If you insist...”

-x-x-

After explaining the stupid agreement he’d just got himself into to Merlin, Arthur ended by saying, “And she’s started already—wants me to cook dinner. Says if she doesn’t like it, it doesn’t count.” Arthur glared at Merlin who’d snickered through the whole explanation and was now flat out laughing. “It’s not funny, Merlin. She’s never going to leave me alone until she finds someone else to occupy her thoughts.” Merlin should really be taking this more seriously in his opinion.

Merlin wiped a tear from his eye and stifled his laughter. “You’re worrying too much.”

“Am I? She asked me to cook because she knows that task is outside my skill set. She’s setting me up to fail.”

“Of course she is. She’s obsessed with you. But don’t worry. It won’t be nearly as difficult as you think. I’ll help.”

“You will?”

And Merlin laughed again. “Of course I will.”

That calmed Arthur down considerably. Not only because he didn’t have to do this alone, but because it meant that at least on some level, Merlin wanted to get Veronica to move on too.

“No time to waste. Let’s get started.”

Arthur watched him head off toward the kitchen, still savouring the relief of having help in this. Merlin soon turned back to look at him.

“Come on then. I’m helping, not doing everything myself.”

Standing before the refrigerator, Merlin rubbed his palms together. “What do you think we should make?”

Arthur contemplated the options.

“I suggest we forgo chicken and beans,” Merlin said, then laughed for no apparent reason.

“That’s an odd thing to say.”

Merlin looked at him funny then said, “Oh, right. I forget that you never remembered any of what happened when you were enchanted with Vivian. You tried to win her over with food. She wasn’t interested.”

“You shouldn’t say ‘enchanted with Vivian.’ It makes it sound like I was legitimately taken with her, not under an evil spell.”

“I don’t know if I would say the spell was evil.”

“The purpose was to start a war. I call that evil.”

“Fair point.” Merlin turned back to the refrigerator. “I suppose she won’t be happy with something mediocre.”

“No, I’d say not.”

“I guess I could…” Merlin reluctantly pulled out a thick cut of beef.

Arthur watched as Merlin washed his hands, grabbed a sharp knife, and carefully cut a round of meat from the larger piece.

“Not a very impressive steak, is it?”

Merlin cut the remaining piece in two. “I’m sure it would have been more to your liking if we weren’t sharing with a third person. This cut is normally only meant for two.” He added salt and pepper to each steak and set them aside on the worktop.

Merlin pulled out a few more ingredients—asparagus, shallots, butter, stock, even a bottle of red wine from the cabinet above the sink. Arthur saw the meal coming together. It looked like nothing short of a romantic meal for two, except now they’d had to portion out a third helping.

Merlin had done all the shopping this week. When he was at the supermarket planning this meal, did he not realize how it would look? Was Merlin really that oblivious, or had he done it on purpose?

“Looks a bit fancy don’t you think, Merlin? I’m trying to cook her something she won’t hate, not trying to convince her that I want to impress her.”

Arthur felt his cheeks flush at the verbal acknowledgement that the meal that Merlin had intended for just the two of them had a decidedly non-platonic flare. Merlin was unfazed.

“We’ll have to add something.” He got into another cabinet and pulled down a small bag of rice, then emptied most of the container of stock into a large pot and turned on the heat. He pushed an onion into Arthur’s hands. “Here. Dice this.”

Arthur complied, not really sure what he was doing or why. Once diced, the onion went into another pan with butter. When Merlin decided they were done, he dumped in the bag of rice.

“What is this?”

“It’s going to be risotto. Keep stirring.”

Arthur continued to follow directions as they were given, but also paid attention to what Merlin was doing as he prepared the asparagus to steam and readied additional ingredients that they would need later on, tried to learn something. He should really help with the cooking more often. It would be useful if he could do something more than cook pasta and follow the instructions on the back of a box.

When Merlin announced that the risotto was half done, he added the steaks to a frying pan and said, “You do this part.”

Arthur was happy to trade places. He was getting tired of stirring. He flipped each steak every minute or so until he was happy with their doneness, then set them on a plate to rest, put a piece of foil over the top to keep them warm.

“What now?”

Merlin grinned, “Now you’re going to make the red wine sauce, and I’ll make something for pudding.”

A little spike of adrenalin trickled into his blood. Helping with the risotto had turned out to be little more than stirring and ladling in stock. He could do that. This sauce sounded a lot more complicated. And he knew he was in trouble of some kind when a momentary flash of delight crossed Merlin’s face before he could school his features.

“Could you grab the sugar for me?”

When Arthur opened the cabinet door, _it_ stood there, quite on purpose, he was sure, right at eye level. It was tilted to the side a bit, so as not to be _too_ obvious, but really, like he wasn’t going to notice something like that. It was like hearing his name across a crowded room. He keyed in on it without thought. He neglected the sugar and picked up the offending package. He turned to Merlin.

“What the hell is this?”

“Hmm?” Merlin’s air of distraction was not fooling Arthur.

“This,” he pointed, though Merlin still wasn’t looking.

When Merlin finally did turn, he did a good job of keeping a perfectly straight face. He tiled his head a bit to the side, raised his eyebrows just so. Arthur knew that look. That exact expression had fooled him before. It wasn’t going to work again. “That’s the flour, Arthur. Did you really learn nothing of how food is prepared in the last 15 years? Do you need a lesson in the difference between—”

“I know what it is, _Merlin_. What I want to know is why my name is on a _sack of flour_.”

He glared at the horseman with lance in hand. The words “King Arthur” emblazoned above. Of all things to have been branded with his name, a flour company?

“It’s a good brand.”

“Of flour.”

“Yes, Arthur. Flour.” Merlin’s spoke as if he were a bit slow with his mental faculties.

“And you couldn’t have done anything about this?”

“It’s not like I could copyright your name. Intellectual property rights didn’t exist back then. You’re in the public domain now. People can do whatever they want with your name, my name, Gwen… Lancelot’s got scotch and fireworks named after him.

Great. Lancelot got liquor and explosives. Arthur got ground wheat.

“People love you for some unfathomable reason. I wouldn’t want to take away their joy.”

“This is ridiculous. You should have put a stop to the whole legend thing when it first got started.”

“I did try to get people’s facts straight back in the beginning, but there was really just no stopping it. There are a lot of people in the world. I couldn’t talk to everyone.”

“You think this is funny,” Arthur accused.

“Only a little.”

Arthur curled his lip in a little sneer. “Not really the most kingly of products, is it?”

“Just think of it this way, Arthur. A good king provides safety and security. As you are well aware, one of the most important ways of doing that is ensuring the food supply. Having your name on a sack of flour, it’s like you’re still providing sustenance for your people.”

“This is why I should never listen to you. You can take a perfectly reasonable complaint and with a few words, turn it completely around.”

“They don’t call me a genius for nothing.”

“For a supposed genius,” Arthur pointed to where Merlin was trying to rinse a handful of strawberries in the sink, “you’re making a bit of a mess.” He’d stopped paying attention to what he was doing in favour of talking with Arthur and was now splashing water onto the worktop. 

“Oops.” Merlin turned off the water and grinned at him, began issuing instructions for making the red wine sauce as though they were orders.

Arthur followed along while keeping an eye on Merlin’s progress with the strawberries. He split each fruit into quarters lengthwise, except that he kept the top near the stem intact. He pried the sections apart, filled the voids with clotted cream, and dusted the whole thing with sugar. These strawberries were definitely too fancy for Veronica, but Merlin wouldn’t let him remove them from her plate.

When everything was done, Arthur carried the neatly plated meal over to Veronica’s flat. She ooh-ed and ahh-ed when she saw it, took a deep breath and proclaimed that it smelled delicious. Then, as Arthur feared, she said, “You spent all this effort cooking my dinner… Are you sure that’s not your subconscious trying to tell you how much you care about me?”

He was as blunt as possible. “I care about you moving on and meeting someone new.”

She frowned, then waved him away, fingers down, back of the hand facing Arthur, as if she remembered perfectly well how to dismiss an annoying servant. Arthur would have growled under his breath if not for the fact that all he wanted was to get out of that flat and back to his own meal. A noticeably smaller steak shouldn’t detract from having a special dinner with the one person he wanted to spend time with over any other.

“Glad it’s Friday,” Merlin said when he got back. The meals had been plated with the same exacting attention that Merlin had used on Veronica’s, though Arthur wasn’t sure why. Merlin didn’t need to impress him.

Merlin yawned as if to highlight his point.

“What does it matter to you? You don’t have a regular job that you need to wake up for in the mornings.”

“Hey, I’m not lazy.” Merlin said, his tone defensive. “I do my share.”

“That’s not what I meant. Don’t twist my words like that. I’m only saying that when I leave here at half seven, you’re always asleep.”

Merlin didn’t look appeased by his explanation. So much for a special meal. Merlin had probably only purchased the ingredients because there was a sale on. No doubt the meat was set to expire tomorrow.

Arthur stabbed his steak with his fork and hacked off an overly large piece. He shoved it into his mouth feeling petulant and crabby and started chewing far more aggressively than was needed. Then the flavour hit his taste buds.

“Wow,” he said when he’d finished swallowing. “This is really good.” He took another bite.

“What did you expect? I told you exactly what to do.”

“Yes, and you were an excellent instructor.” There, maybe that would set Merlin back into a better mood. They hadn’t argued in a while, maybe they were just due. “But I was sure I’d still managed to mess it up somehow.”

“Sorry.” Merlin sagged back into his chair. “I really am just tired. Wreaks havoc with my mood. I didn’t mean to snap at you.”

Arthur set his utensils down. “You’re tired a lot lately. Think you might be getting sick?”

“No, I’m all right. Just not used to all this.”

 _All this?_ Did he mean living with Arthur? Was he really so stressful to be around? It brought up a topic Arthur had intentionally been avoiding.

“What exactly did you do before? I mean… You had a lot of time on your hands. I know you don’t remember it all that clearly, and I don’t expect every little detail, but…”

“I was just waiting.”

“But what does that mean? Surely you found something to occupy your time. You weren’t just lying around in bed all day every day for centuries on end waiting for me to show back up.”

“No, of course not.”

“Well then…”

“I don’t know, lots of things. Trying to help people mostly. I was a physician’s assistant once upon a time.”

“Yes.” Arthur smirked. “I do seem to recall something like that.”

“I wandered around a lot, stopping wherever someone needed my help. I worked as a physician off and on through the years. I served as advisor to various kings and queens on occasion, though never for long. I didn’t like to be seen as any sovereign’s man. I’m… well, a man can’t pledge himself to more than one ruler after all.”

Arthur was about to say, ‘You never pledged yourself to me.’ Then he realized that wasn’t true at all. Obviously his actions were clear enough on their own, but he’d actually said it as well. He may not have knelt down and sworn his loyalty before the court, but privately...

_I’m happy to be your servant, until the day I die._

_I was born to serve you Arthur._

_I’ll protect you, or die at your side._

_Isn’t it clear by now? I’d do anything you need of me._

_“Merlin.”_ And God, Merlin was looking at him with that intense stare of his again. It felt like a trap and Arthur had no chance of escape. All he could do was stare right back, wondering if that look meant the same thing to Merlin that it meant to him.

Arthur set his arm up on the table, wanted to reach across the space and take Merlin’s hand.

 _Now_. He should tell him now. There was no reason to wait for the gala. He’d already mucked that up badly enough by commanding Merlin to accompany him.

He opened his mouth, intending to confess everything, but at the last second, said instead, “You don’t have to come to the gala, if you don’t want.”

Merlin’s brow furrowed and Arthur was messing up again; Merlin was misinterpreting.

“But I… want you to be there with me.”

The corners of Merlin’s mouth twitched up. “Because I’ll provide an entertaining distraction from the hobnobbing?”

“No. Well, that too. But… You know. Right?” His hands were starting to feel clammy. Why did this have to be so damn difficult? “That I… like being with you.” Arthur cringed. The words were woefully inadequate. He didn’t just _like_ being around Merlin. It was as if he needed Merlin to be whole, to be his best self.

“Are you all right?”

Arthur’s gaze turned to a glare. That wasn’t the response he’d been looking for.

“It’s just that you don’t usually talk about your feelings unless something’s gone horribly wrong.” Merlin’s look said, ‘Something hasn’t gone horribly wrong, has it, Arthur?’

The answer to that was an emphatic yes. What had gone horribly wrong was their seeming inability to make their feelings plain to each other.

“I’m supposed to be better at that sort of thing now. I’ve spent 15 years around your mother.”

“You need to stop calling her that.”

“Some of that emotional openness she instilled in you was bound to rub off eventually.”

“So you’re not sick or—”

“For heaven’s sake, Merlin!”

“All right then. I just had to be sure. I suppose when you put it that way, I’d…” He cleared his throat as if he were the one with a reason to be nervous. “It would be my honour to attend the gala with you.”

Arthur could feel the corners of his lips tugging upward. “There now. That wasn’t so hard was it?” He wasn’t sure if he was talking to Merlin or himself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Part 2 is finally happening - hooray! Thank you so much for reading! 
> 
> Also, just wanted to note that King Arthur Flour is real, but it’s an American company and, as I understand it, isn’t available outside of the US and Canada. But this story isn’t technically set in the real world and you’re feel free to imagine whatever you like. Maybe in the world of the story it’s a local company that’s commonly sold at the nearest supermarket. Or maybe Merlin somehow special ordered it, just because he thinks it’s funny. ^_^


	2. The Shopping Incident

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please note that I've increased the rating to be on the safe side.

Arthur had just arrived back home from a short run. He had the door half open before Veronica pounced.

“Arthur! So good to see you this fine Saturday morning! I have another task for you to assist me with.”

Arthur was dreading this already. He said, “What is it?” trying to keep the exasperation out of his voice and failing miserably.

“Nothing too difficult, just a trip to the supermarket.” She paused. “I see you’ve been working out.” Her eyes trailed down his body, taking in the sweat soaked shirt and the jogging shorts that exposed his knees and lower legs. “As much as I like the athletic look, I’ll even give you a few minutes to shower and change.”

“How magnanimous of you.”

“I really am, aren’t I?”

Every time she smiled at him, Arthur cringed a little inside.

“So, groceries. You honestly need my help for that? You can’t decide what to buy on your own?”

“Don’t be silly. You’re going to carry my bags home.”

Arthur didn’t comment, but let himself into his flat, slamming the door on his way. It was after ten so he didn’t feel a bit of guilt about the noise. If Merlin weren’t awake yet—he hadn’t been up when Arthur left for his run—then he needed to be anyway.

Sure enough, when he passed the man’s bedroom on his way to the shower, he was still sound asleep. Arthur pounded on the door frame. “Merrrrlin,” he said in a low voice.

When all the response he got was a shift of positions, Arthur took his wake up call up a few notches and used the voice he’d employed when he wanted his command to carry halfway across the castle back in Camelot. “MERLIN!!”

Merlin squirmed a bit more, brought his hands up to rub his eyes.

“Glad to see you’re feeling energetic enough to join the world of the waking, Merlin.”

“It’s too early,” Merlin slurred.

“No, it’s quite late. You’ve slept half the morning away. Didn’t you want to be up at 8?”

Merlin groaned. “It’s past eight already?”

“Well past. Are you sure you’re not getting sick? You went to bed before I did last night.”

“’m fffine.” He threw an arm over his eyes to shield the light.

“Then stop being lazy and get up. I’m just finished with my run, and Veronica’s already got her claws in me.”

“Need help?”

“I’ll manage. She just wants me to haul her shopping home from the supermarket.”

“Starting you off easy today.”

“Seems so. I’ll pick up the things you have on that list in the kitchen while I’m there.”

“Thanksss.” He still sounded half asleep.

It was strange. When Merlin used to wake him in Camelot, he’d always been chipper. Annoyingly so sometimes. Maybe Merlin hadn’t actually gone to sleep when he went to bed last night. It wouldn’t surprise him if Merlin had sat up all night reading more medical journals. He’d have to keep a closer eye on the matter in future. He wasn’t above issuing demands like he used to if it were a matter of Merlin’s health.

-x-x-

“So,” Veronica said, after they’d walked through the shop entrance and each picked up a shopping basket, “I heard you shouting before we left. Finally getting sick of that leech sleeping in your lounge? How much longer is he going to be imposing on your generosity?”

And here it was, at long last. “Veronica, he’s not a guest. We moved him in back in April.”

“What?” She stopped walking and turned on him. “For how long?”

“Permanently.”

She stared at him with a blank look for several long seconds, clearly not comprehending his meaning.

“He lives there. With me.” The wording was a little stronger than he’d meant, but there was no point in trying to explain the exact nature of his relationship with Merlin to Veronica. He couldn’t even find the right words to adequately explain it to himself.

“You…” she said, finally catching up. “I can’t believe it! It hasn’t been more than a few weeks.”

In fact, it had been a couple of months now, but he wasn’t going to argue such minor details with her. Especially not when she was right about the timing of the move itself.

“I keep telling you, I’ve known him for years.”

“Sure you have. And you just happened to suddenly remember him the moment he showed up.”

“You heard me shout his name from across the street when he was hit by that van.” This was back when Arthur didn’t even know his own name.

“Which you later denied.”

He still didn’t remember shouting Merlin’s name like that, but he no longer had a reason to doubt he’d done it. The knowledge was oddly satisfying in a way—to know that even when the power of a goddess prevented him from knowing himself, his subconscious still knew Merlin’s name.

“How else do you explain it?”

“He’s beguiled you!”

“ _Beguiled?_ Really?” Which would have been much more ridiculous if not for the fact that Merlin was actually capable of such things. It wouldn’t do for her to be thinking that though. “The man saved my live. He threw himself in front of a traffic accident. You saw him do it. What kind of person does that?”

“The kind that was never in any danger to begin with!”

A mother standing a few paces away tugged her young daughter’s hand with an admonishment not to stare.

“You’re out of your mind.” He hoped he sounded convincing. “You’re talking about a man that once fell asleep while mucking out a horse stall. He woke up with manure on his face and the horses nowhere in sight.”

That seemed to appease her somewhat.

Arthur plucked a box of soap off the shelf and put it in his basket.

“Fine,” she said. “Have it your way. Since you’re so in love with Merlin—”

“Oh, for pity’s sake, I’m not—” He wasn’t sure why his first instinct was to deny it. He changed what he’d been about to say. “I’m not having this discussion with you.” Not before he talked about it with Merlin first.

“—I guess you’ll be needing these!” She grabbed the shopping basket out of his hand, swung it over to the other side of the aisle, and used her free arm to sweep a multitude of items off the shelf and into his basket. She thrust it back at him and stalked off.

Sighing, he looked at what had been added to his shopping. His breath caught in his lungs. His heart took off at a sprint. It wasn’t much of an assortment.

His hand trembled a fraction as he grabbed the first box of condoms from his basket and set it back on the shelf. He grabbed another and another as quickly as possible, his unsteady hand pushing the other products on the shelf askew as he attempted to return the items to their rightful place. There were a couple of small bottles of personal lubricant too. He shuffled aside his intended purchases to make sure he got everything. The squeaky wheels of a shopping trolley drew closer as someone turned into the aisle. Arthur pushed the last box into place on the shelf and fled.

He found Veronica two aisles away picking a box of hair dye off the shelf. She always used the exact same shade of blonde and never allowed her roots to become noticeable. With the way she went through the stuff, she was probably keeping the company in business single-handed.

“If you’re quite done…”

“I am.” She seemed very pleased with herself.

By the time they joined the checkout queue, Veronica had started gossiping about some supposed friend who was trying to copy her, and was sounding more like her usual self. Arthur only half listened. He was still recovering from his earlier shock.

“Sir?”

Veronica nudged him in the side.

“What? Oh, sorry.”

“Your total is £20.18.”

The sum was higher than he’d expected, but he paid without question, grabbed his bag, and waited for Veronica. It wasn’t until he got home and started unloading his purchases that he realized his mistake.

He stared at the innocuous looking bottle sitting on the kitchen worktop. The back of the package proclaimed the contents suitable for… well, just about everything.

“What’s that?”

Arthur spun, heart leaping into his throat. “Nothing!” he coughed.

His body blocked Merlin’s view of the offending package, and he reached his hands behind his back, pulled the bottle off its resting place and tucked it into the waistband of his trousers as discretely as possible.

“Doesn’t look like nothing. It looks like the shopping.”

“Oh, it is!”

“You okay, Arthur?”

“Of course, why wouldn’t I be?”

“Because your face has an odd tinge of red.”

“Yes, well. That’s because I just had to endure a whole hour with Veronica. She’s infuriating!” Which wasn’t a lie, not that last part.

“Ah, well. That explains it then.” Merlin’s expression didn’t match his words.

Merlin didn’t move and so neither could Arthur. Merlin might see what he was hiding, and he’d be forced to explain. _See Merlin, Veronica thinks we’re having sex. So do all my mates at work, by the way. Now, I’ve never been with a man—and I don’t mean to be presumptuous considering we’ve never even kissed—but I think maybe we should give it a go. What do you think?_

He could feel his cheeks heating even further. It felt like he was about to spontaneously combust.

There had to be something he could say that would dispel Merlin’s suspicions, but the only thing his frazzled brain could come up with was, “Don’t you have work to be doing? I did the shopping; I think it’s only fair that you put things away.”

Merlin looked puzzled, said, “O…kay?” and stepped forward.

Arthur rotated in place to keep his back away from Merlin’s view. Only when Merlin’s back was turned did he snatch the bottle from his waistband and hightail it to his bedroom. He could toss the bottle straight into the bin, but then Merlin might see it if he decided to tidy up Arthur’s room.

He sat on the side of his bed while his pulse returned to normal. This was silly. He was being ridiculous. He wasn’t embarrassed about sex. He could remember being married now. He knew what it was to be a husband, knew what it was to have the whole court interested in how frequently he was performing his duties. There had been no shortage of unsolicited advice after his wedding when Guinevere didn’t immediately become pregnant. He’d been forced to learn to deal with all that attention in a calm and dignified manner.

He broke the plastic seal on the bottle. He was an adult after all and it wasn’t unreasonable for him to have something like this for his own personal use. He could drop his trousers right now and make use of it. He squeezed a drop onto his index finger and rubbed the smooth liquid with the pad of his thumb.

Arthur tired not to think too much about how he and Merlin could use this. He couldn’t even tell Merlin how he felt, and his brain tended to short out if he tried to imagine anything much beyond a bit of kissing and some gentle caresses.

Things in Camelot had been so different. If they were still back home… Well, nothing could have happened then. It wasn’t allowed. Arthur had never even considered it. He’d broken so many boundaries as king. Being friends with servants, marrying the daughter of a blacksmith, knighting commoners… But he’d never even thought to court a man, it was so far outside the accepted practice. Not that there weren’t men that slept with other men, but everyone got married and at least attempted to have children, no matter their personal proclivities. The only other option was to lead a celibate life of scholarship and pious religious devotion to the new God that had replaced the many deities of the Old Religion.

Arthur had told Cade and the others that Merlin wasn’t his boyfriend. Had told himself that he could never be. But what was the right word then, for what he wanted? If his objection to “boyfriend” was purely because he needed something more serious, the traditional next steps would be fiancé and husband, but those didn’t sound like the right words either.

Marriage seemed… trivial. He’d been married before. Then he’d died and that was the end of that. His connection with Merlin wasn’t temporary. It wasn’t bounded by mortality and sooner or later he was going to die again. How long could he really expect to last here anyway? By all accounts, he was here to help during some impending crisis. He’d resisted the idea at first, but dead men don’t get resurrected for no reason. That reason was unlikely to be to live in peace to a ripe old age with his… whatever the right word was to describe Merlin, at his side.

Arthur stood and went to the window. A pair of women were powerwalking down the pavement in workout clothes, a married couple Arthur recognized from the floor below were having a bit of a row while they loaded their car for an apparent holiday, and a flock of birds took off from a power line as a van drove past. The world certainly didn’t look like it was about to end any time soon.

A loud clatter startled Arthur out of his contemplation. The noise was followed by an immediate, “Damn it!”

Arthur walked into the kitchen to find Merlin standing before an open cupboard, several dented tins at his feet. A steady trickle of blood ran down his face and dripped onto his shirt. He put two fingers to the gash on his forehead, pulled them away to observe the blood.

“It wasn’t my fault!”

“Uh-huh.”

Arthur could see what had happened. Merlin had been trying to add more items to an already over-stuffed shelf and while he may have succeeded in making room for the new items, he’d done it at the expense of the tins that were now on the floor.

“Aren’t you supposed to be able to,” Arthur waved his fingers, “slow time or something to prevent these sorts of things? That’s what you said you did when you saved my life from that witch at the very beginning.”

They’d been slowly making their way through Merlin’s side adventures since Arthur regained his memories. It wasn’t the sort of thing that could be done in a single night.

“I would have, but I was distracted, all right?”

“I think the word you’re really looking for is ‘clumsy.’ You know, I never had problems like this before you showed up.”

Merlin was not offended. “Yeah, because your cupboards were bare. It’s a wonder you managed to feed yourself at all.”

Arthur snorted. “I’m not that helpless. Need I remind you that you’re the one bleeding all over yourself.”

“Ah, it’ll stop soon enough.”

Arthur frowned. “So you’re…what? Not going to do anything about it?”

“I’ll clean up the blood.” He looked down at the stain setting on his shirt, plucked at the fabric. “I’ll wash this.”

“No,” Arthur said and reached out to grab Merlin’s wrist, tug him along to the bathroom.

“Arthur! What are you doing?”

“If you’re not going to clean and bandage that cut, I’m going to do it for you.” He huffed. “And you say _I’m_ the helpless one.”

Arthur manhandled Merlin into the bathroom, positioning him in front of the toilet so that Arthur had room to look through the storage cabinet under the sink. He rinsed out a flannel and mopped up the blood from Merlin’s face, then pulled Merlin’s head down toward the sink to wash the cut out with soapy water. Once he was satisfied that it was clean, he held the cloth against the cut, waiting for the wound to stop bleeding.

“Hold this,” Arthur said.

As soon as Arthur let go, Merlin pulled the cloth away.

“I _said_ to hold it. It’s still bleeding.” He moved Merlin’s hand back in place.

“ _Arthur_ ,” Merlin said, clearly disgruntled. “This is completely unnecessary. It’s going to heal without a scar in a few hours anyway. Maybe a day.”

A cut like that, on such thin flesh, it would scar on Arthur.

“And you think that’s an excuse not to take care of yourself? It’s a good thing I’m here now.”

Merlin rolled his eyes, but Arthur got out the antibacterial ointment and the bandages and in a few minutes, Merlin was all fixed up. He held Merlin’s chin with one hand and maneuvered his head around to get the best view of his work. Then, quite by accident, his eyes fell on Merlin’s lips. Even as he watched, Merlin’s tongue darted out to lick at the dry, cracked and flaking skin. It looked painful and the licking was only making it worse.

“And here’s another example.”

He let go of Merlin’s chin and went back to the cabinet, rummaged around until he found the little pot of Carmex.

“Stay still.”

Merlin let out an exaggerated sigh, but Arthur was undaunted. He unscrewed the cap, scooped out a dollop of ointment, grabbed hold of Merlin’s chin again, and smeared the goopy medicine across Merlin’s neglected lips.

“There!” He said, quite pleased with himself. “If you don’t start taking better care of yourself, I’m going to do it for you. All this ignoring wounds, and neglecting your health, and sleeping late because you can’t be bothered to get to bed at a decent hour… It’s ending now.”

“ _Arthur_ ,” Merlin said, sounding thoroughly chastised.

It was more than Arthur could stand. He said, “I need to meet Owen at the shooting range soon,” and stormed out of the bathroom.

He gave himself a few minutes to cool off, then needed to be on his way to practice. They’d all agreed that Garrett would still want them in the team competition. Registration had still been open at the time, and it had been a simple matter to fill the position with someone new. That didn’t leave much time for their new member to practice before the Games, but at this point they were all going to be happy just to make it there with a full team.

Arthur tried to ignore Merlin on the way past the bathroom, but he caught a glimpse of him, face inches away from the mirror as he inspected his reflection. Instead of turning his head to get the best look at his bandaged wound, he looked straight on, a finger brushing against his bottom lip.


	3. The Barman Incident

When Arthur returned home from the shooting range, Merlin was off at the hospital checking on Regan again. He’d been doing that more and more these past few weeks. After a few hours reprieve, Veronica started pounding on his door shouting, “James, I need your assistance!”

Arthur glared at her when he opened the door. He’d already done one task for her this morning. He’d been hoping that would be it for the day. “With what?”

“I need you to drive me to dinner.”

“You own a car. Drive yourself.”

“I’m thinking I might have a drink or two.”

“I’ll call you a taxi. Or you can take the bus.”

“Oh, no. That won’t do at all.”

“And why not?”

She paused in thought and when a valid excuse didn’t come to her fast enough, she tipped her chin up, straightened her back and said, “I do not need to explain myself to you. You agreed to help me.” She gave a curt nod. “Therefore, you will do as I ask.”

Arthur groaned. Why had he ever agreed to this? He had to keep reminding himself that he’d be better off in the long run. It was only a week, and like any other unpleasant task, it was better to just get it over with. He held his hands out for the keys. “Pease tell me you’re not going somewhere on the opposite side of town.”

“As it happens, it’s only a short drive away.” Her grin did nothing to allay his fears.

Arthur left a quick note on the side table just inside the door where Merlin always put his keys in case the man got home before Arthur did.

The smug look on Veronica’s face when Arthur pulled her car up outside the Lance and Shield told him that she knew this was a place he frequented. He was fairly confident he’d never mentioned the place to her and knew for certain that she’d never been here with him before. So apparently, she was stalking him now, and wasn’t that just wonderful.

“How long are you going to be?” Arthur said.

“Why would you need to know that?”

He shook his head in disbelief. “So I know when to pick you up?”

“That still doesn’t answer my question. I mean, it’s not as if you’re going anywhere.”

“What?”

“I haven’t given you permission to borrow my car.”

Arthur rubbed at his forehead, the beginnings of a headache settling in.

“I suppose you could take a walk if you like,” she said as though this were some generous allowance she was granting.

 _You’ll be better off, Arthur,_ he reminded himself for the tenth time since leaving his flat. He wished his inner monologue was at least halfway convincing. A sour lump in his stomach grew every hour this agreement dragged on. _She’s never going to follow through with her end of the bargain, no matter what I do._ And even if she did agree to meet Owen, there was no guarantee they would get on. He was going to be stuck with Veronica trying to insert herself into his love life forever.

Arthur threw the car into park, stepped out onto the pavement, and slammed the door behind him. He refused to wait in the car while Veronica had dinner. Her eyes glowed with excitement when she realized he intended to follow her inside instead of taking her offer of a walk.

He pointed ahead toward the pub. “Well go on and find your friend then. This isn’t a date.”

He waited on the pavement for a minute before following her inside, just to make it clear that they were here separately. He went straight to the bar, took a seat, and pulled out his mobile to send a text asking Merlin to join him when he got done at the hospital instead of going home.

It was just his luck that Wayne was tending the bar. Didn’t that man ever have a day off?

“What’d you do this time?” Wayne said, as he stepped over to do his job.

“Huh?”

“I don’t see Merlin with you. Thought maybe you’d said something stupid and he kicked you out of the flat.”

“We’re not fighting. He’ll be here in a bit.”

Thankfully there were other customers that needed Wayne’s attention; he didn’t have time for more than serving Arthur a pint.

While Arthur waited for Merlin to show, he found them a nice, out-of-the-way table and pulled out his mobile to do a little more research on that anti-magic website. Scouring the forums for leads on the theft at the Purge Museum was a stretch. He’d only found the site because he’d thought Fiona Smith and her brother, Lewis MacAlister, were magic hating zealots, and that had turned out to be the exact opposite of the truth, but he had a hunch, and the worst that could happen was he wasted a few hours of his own time.

Merlin said it was unlikely that the stolen artefact was genuine, but “unlikely” did little to help Arthur’s nerves, not when he knew that Mordred’s sword had been like his—forged in the dragon’s breath and capable of killing even a powerful sorcerer. Capable of killing Merlin. The anti-magic crowd would love to get their hands on something like that.

This was the first he’d been back on the forums in the last couple of weeks, and it took him a few minutes to find where he’d stopped reading last time, but when he did, the effort finally paid off. His jaw clenched as he reread the thread a second, then third time.

“You look to be in a foul mood tonight.”

“What?” Arthur looked up to find Merlin taking the seat on the opposite side of the small table. “Oh, I’ve been working on the museum case again.”

“Any progress?”

“Not sure yet. I’m back on that website.” He lifted his hand to indicate his mobile.

“Save the world from magic?”

“That’s the one.” Arthur navigated back to the start of the relevant portion of the thread and handed the phone to Merlin. “Here, read this.”

Guardian157: Has everyone heard about the Purge Museum’s latest exhibit? They’ve got pieces of the sword that traitor Mordred used to kill King Arthur.

freefrommagic: That’s old news. They’ve had that relic for years. It was found in the 70s, I think. Been sitting in their storeroom for ages. And I don’t know why you care so much about Mordred killing Arthur. Arthur was a magic sympathizer. If you ask me, they all need to go.

GunfireDave: getting rid of people with magic would be easy if we had mordred’s sword

freefrommagic: You find a way to bust that thing out and we’ll use it for real. No more talk. We really could save the world from magic. We’d be the heroes who cleansed the last of the magic using parasites off the face of the earth.

Merlin’s eyes went wide so Arthur knew which part he was reading. “Wow. Casually discussing murder. And they think they’re the morally superior ones.”

“I know it’s just internet talk. People threaten all sorts of things when they’re behind the safety of a computer screen, but they’re discussing doing something that actually happened. And if you notice the dates, each comment in that thread was written two months before the actual theft.”

“Can you trace the IP addresses?”

“We’ll try, but realistically, it’s unlikely to help.” Arthur wasn’t done with his explanation, but Wayne stepped up to their table.

“So, Merlin, still hanging around with this wanker?” Wayne gestured toward Arthur as he pulled over a chair from an adjacent table, spun it round, and sat down the wrong way with his arms resting on the chair back.

“Well, you know. He’s a spoilt prat and all, but I suppose I’ve learned to tolerate him.”

“Aren’t you supposed to be working?” Arthur said, glaring at Wayne in hopes that the man would catch on to his displeasure.

He noticed all right, gave Arthur a big grin and said, “Nope. Shift just ended.”

Merlin handed Arthur’s phone back to him and turned to address the interloper. “How’ve you been, Wayne?” It was just polite small talk, but did Merlin really have to say it with such a bright smile on his face?

Arthur downed the rest of his pint, suppressing a grimace. The beer had gone warm.

“Good! You won’t believe what happened the other day…”

Arthur sat back as Wayne started in on his story, and Merlin took on the burden of staying engaged in the conversation. After some time, there was a lull in the talking and Merlin stood.

“Where are you going?” Arthur snapped.

Merlin’s eyes widened a fraction. “Uh, to the loo? That a problem?”

Arthur shot a look at Merlin that he knew the man would be able to correctly interpret as, ‘Do not leave me alone with Wayne.’

Merlin only gave a helpless little shrug, but he might as well have said, ‘Sorry Arthur. When you have to go, you have to go.’

Arthur sat up straighter. If they were still back in Camelot, an excuse like that would have meant Merlin was sneaking off to work magic. Surely there wasn’t cause for magic right now was there?

Merlin headed off in the general direction of the toilets, but maybe Arthur should follow—

“Hey,” Wayne said, bumping Arthur’s arm to get his attention.

Arthur scrubbed a hand across his face. He was being paranoid, and he knew it. Merlin had the right to empty his bladder without Arthur thinking he must be lying. He hated this new part of himself. Ever since his memories had been fully restored, he had this worried little voice in his head that piped up every now and then, warning of secrets that weren’t there anymore. He was getting better about it, but slowly. He trusted Merlin, honestly he did. He wished he could just _decide_ and make the paranoia stop.

Wayne leaned toward Arthur. “Now that Merlin’s out of earshot for a bit, you can tell me. How’s it going with him? He’s not still sleeping on the couch, is he?”

“No,” Arthur scoffed. “He has his own bedroom.”

“Oh my God, Craddock! What the hell are you waiting for? I thought for sure you’d be rodgering him every chance you got by now.”

“Don’t talk about him like that.”

“Too crass, huh? You must really like him.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Why was it that everyone felt it was their business what he and Merlin were or weren’t doing behind closed doors?

“You’re seriously trying to tell me that the two of you haven’t had sex at all yet?”

“Please stop talking.” Arthur put his elbows on the table, rested his head in his hands.

“Wow, you really haven’t! No wonder you’re so sensitive about it. You’ve at least kissed him though.”

Arthur sat back up and glared at Wayne. “No!”

“But you want to, right?”

“Why am I even talking to you?”

“Have you even tried?”

If Arthur could have a single superpower in that moment, he would wish for the ability to stop himself from blushing.

“You have! How did it go?”

Arthur gave up. “It didn’t, okay?”

“He rejected you? I don’t believe it. What did he say?”

Arthur wasn’t sure if Wayne had picked up this nosiness because an overly friendly barman sold more drinks or if it came to him naturally. He’d always liked to talk, but he’d never really pried into Arthur personal life back when he’d been Gwaine.

“Nothing. Just… I had a lot going on at the time. He thought I was confused.”

“And were you?”

“About a lot of things? Yes. About him? Not so much.”

“Well, there you have it.” Wayne slapped his upper arm. “He thought he was being honourable. You just need to convince him of your sincerity. He’s probably been pining after you for so long he thought you’d never be interested.”

Merlin _had_ spent a long time alone. He could have convinced himself of nearly anything in that amount of time.

“You just tell him that it took you a while to catch up with him and that you’re sorry for making him wait.”

Arthur shook his head. He was in a sad place if he was considering taking romantic advice from Wayne.

“What makes you so sure he’s interested?” He wasn’t necessarily trying to disagree, but he did want to know if Wayne saw what others did in Merlin’s behavior or if he was making a fool of himself by getting his hopes up.

Wayne laughed. “Have you not noticed the way he looks at you? It’s like you’re his whole world. Not to mention how he falls all over himself to please you.”

“He was insulting me a few minutes ago. You call that pleasing me?”

“Oh come on. You love bickering with him. I think it must be your favourite hobby. Everyone can tell that the two of you are just joking about when you’re like that.”

Merlin was on his way back it to their table when his gaze shifted to something behind Arthur. He stopped, curled his lips under to stop himself from laughing. Arthur looked over his shoulder. Veronica and a tall woman with blonde hair were headed his way. Apparently, Arthur had a sign above his head inviting people to interrupt his private meal.

Merlin mouthed something, then pointed to the bar where Tom, the manager, was waving at him. Merlin waved back, then wandered off in that direction, effectively abandoning Arthur twice in one night, the traitor.  

Veronica and her companion stepped up to his table. “James, this is my friend, Erin. I promised her you’d introduce her to your friend.” She shifted her gaze to Wayne.

Arthur made the introduction as simply as he could, hoping that would encourage them to leave all the faster.

“Don’t get any ideas about James, Erin. He’s shacked up with that scrawny bloke over there.” Veronica pointed toward Merlin.

Wayne, being completely unhelpful, said, “You don’t have to worry about him and Merlin. They’re not sleeping together.” He grinned at Arthur as if to say, ‘I wouldn’t be doing this if you’d only admitted how much you like him.’

“That doesn’t mean anything,” Veronica’s friend said. “A romantic relationship is not contingent on the expectation of sex.”

“It’s not?” Gwaine said.

“No! It’s not! Haven’t you ever heard of courtly love?”

Wayne let out a bark of a laugh, then sent a pointed look at Arthur. “Courtly love, you say?”

Arthur snorted. His relationship with Merlin was _not_ courtly love. That involved a knight wooing the favour of a married woman with feats of bravery and proclamations of devotion. The knight wasn’t supposed to expect anything from her except her special regard.

When the women finally went back to their own table, Wayne said, “So… courtly love.”

Arthur rolled his eyes and explained what the term meant, because clearly, Wayne had no idea. He ended by saying, “I am not _wooing_ Merlin,” which was true. He planned to tell Merlin how he felt, but he wasn’t making elaborate gestures trying to win his affection. Those weren’t the same thing. “And Merlin’s not married. Your theory falls apart.”

“No, it doesn’t. You’re not the knight. Merlin is. He did save your live in a rather heroic sort of way.”

Looking at it in that light, Arthur was forced to reassess, if only to himself, because back in Camelot, he had been married, Merlin had constantly been performing heroic acts—complete with declarations of undying loyalty—and Arthur actually had bestowed him with a certain kind of favour, letting him insult his king without repercussions, taking him along on campaigns and quests that he really had no business being on, not in the mind of the court, or even Arthur if he was honest. He just liked Merlin being there with him. If that was courtly love, it was as wholesome as you could get.

The stories weren’t like that. There was always some component of physical desire, even if it wasn’t consummated. When it was, it was kept secret. Merlin had his own secrets, but the pair of them had never purposely kept anything about their relationship from others.

Arthur said, “You think that’s him trying to win my favour?”

Wayne shrugged. “Wouldn’t take near so much to impress me.”

Arthur shook his head. Even if— _if_ —courtly love was an accurate description of their relationship before, it didn’t hold up to their modern lives. The term was far to antiquated, Arthur wasn’t married anymore, and what he wanted now wasn’t a hidden romance.

When Merlin eventually returned to the table, he said, “What’d I miss?”

“Nothing,” Arthur croaked out in a way that made Merlin’s eyes narrow with suspicion.

Arthur busied himself with clearing the rest of his plate and encouraged Merlin to do the same. The sooner they were away from Wayne, the better.

The strategy didn’t do him any good. Veronica followed through with her plan to have a few drinks. It was hours later when she finally stumbled over and announced she was ready for her ride home. Wayne only left their table a few times throughout the evening to try chatting up one random woman or another. In the interim, he kept diverting Merlin’s attention away from Arthur and making increasingly tactless comments about their relationship. Merlin, thankfully, seemed oblivious to what he was hinting at.

Arthur usually liked a night out at the pub, but he was beyond grateful to get back home and crawl into bed. While he was setting his alarm for the next day, a text popped in from an unknown number.

          if it’s gagging ur worried about  
          you can always practice on a courgette  
          the key is to swallow  
          can’t gag if you’re swallowing

Arthur wasted no time in replying.

          Is this you, Wayne? I’m sure I never gave you my number.

Arthur suppressed an annoyed growl when Wayne’s response revealed that Merlin had betrayed him for a third time tonight. This time by handing over his mobile number to the likes of Wayne. Arthur’s thumb wavered over the block button. He decided to just delete the messages instead. Wayne was an annoyance more often than not, but he had his useful moments, too, and whether he deserved it this time around or not, Arthur trusted him.

The next morning, Arthur woke to his now familiar alarm tone of Merlin’s voice saying, “Rise. And. Shine!” He’d meant to fix that, but he always had more pressing things to do. He should swap out the tone now while he was thinking about it, but well, he could just as easily do it later. He had a lot to think about. All that talk of boyfriends and courtly love had him no closer to finding the proper word to describe what Merlin was to him, or what he wanted Merlin to be.

Merlin spoke of ordinary loves. Was there a term for an un-ordinary one? Arthur mulled over the question and headed to the kitchen for breakfast.

Robert called while Arthur was still eating to run a theory past him for one of his latest cases, because no matter how much Robert went on about perception being more important than reality, he had as strong a work ethic as anyone Arthur knew. After they’d wrapped up their work discussion and just before ending the call, Arthur said, “Hey, Robert? What would you call the opposite of an ordinary love?”

Robert didn’t ask, just considered the question for a moment as if Arthur were asking for help on a word puzzle. “A mortal enemy?”

“No, I’m talking about the ordinary part.”

There was another pause, shorter this time. “You mean like a soulmate?”

Arthur nearly choked on his toast. That was certainly a stronger word than boyfriend and a more modern notion than courtly love, but if that were the case, what the hell had he been doing with someone else? Was there such a thing as not being ready to be with your soulmate?

“You’re talking about Merlin, right?”

A vicious blush sprouted across his cheeks. Even his ears and the back of his neck felt hot. “I didn’t say that.”

Why couldn’t he talk about this out loud without feeling completely flustered? He could think about his feelings all day long without getting nervous, but the instant it came to actually verbalizing his thoughts… Maybe this was good from him, a bit of practice. He wanted to at least appear self-assured when he finally told Merlin how he felt.

“You didn’t have to. It’s written all over your face.”

Arthur scoffed. “You can’t see me right now.”

“Don’t need to. You’re that obvious.”

Was he? Recent conversations with his other mates at work, Wayne, and even Veronica supported Robert’s point. The irritation that gnawed at him wasn’t because everyone else saw it, but because Merlin, who was supposed to know him better than anyone else, clearly did not.

Merlin shuffled bleary-eyed into the kitchen. He barely acknowledged Arthur, offering him only a half mumbled, “morning,” as Arthur stared after him with what his friends might describe as longing.

Soulmates, indeed.


	4. The Frozen Chicken Incident

After receiving a call from Margo just before lunch, Merlin rushed off to the hospital. He’d been gone all afternoon with only a text saying that Regan was doing very poorly and that he wasn’t going to be home until she was stable again.

Merlin said they needed to wait until closer to Samhain before attempting to retrieve Morgana’s soul, but if things kept up like this, she wasn’t going to make it that long. They were only a few weeks away from Lammas now though, so they’d soon be closer to Samhain than Beltane. Arthur hoped that would be good enough. He still didn’t understand what the plan was after that, but Merlin said it would all be up to Margo, so he supposed he shouldn’t worry any more about it.

He worried anyway. This was Morgana’s very soul they were talking about. His sister. The girl who’d cried for weeks when she first came to Camelot. The man she’d considered her father had just died, and she’d been moved away from the only home she’d ever known and thrust into Camelot’s royal family. Uther certainly hadn’t been a warm and comforting presence. It wasn’t until Arthur had gone to her himself and offered to let her play at sword fighting with him that he first saw her smile.

After the adjustment period, she’d been happy and kind, always ready to help the poor in the lower town or the outlying villages, always carrying wounded birds and stray cats in to be treated by Gaius.

She’d turned into something horrible, every bit as bad as Uther. Maybe even more so. She’d been out of control and he’d had no way to help her. All he could do was stop her. He liked to think that the old Morgana, the real Morgana, the kind and happy girl he’d grown up with, would have understood why he fought against her. He wanted her to be able to trust again, to love.

Margo may want to be her mother now, might have been her sister in a past life, but Arthur was still her brother today, and he had a responsibility to take care of his family. Merlin wouldn’t like it, but whatever plan he had for Margo to bring Morgana back, Arthur intended to help.

His stomach growled, reminding him that he’d had more of a snack than lunch and now it was getting on toward dinner. Not for the first time, he wondered when Merlin would be able to come home.

He opened the refrigerator hoping for something quick and easy. He frowned. While there was plenty of food, it all required work to prepare.

A texted chimed in from Merlin.

          Think I’ve finally got her stable again  
          Plan to watch her another hour or so to make sure  
          Going to fall asleep the moment I get home

Arthur sent a message back asking if Merlin had eaten dinner yet. Merlin responded several minutes later.

          Don’t wait on me  
          Too tired for food

Arthur furrowed his brow. No matter how many times he told Merlin that he needed to take better care of himself, he just couldn’t get it through his thick skull. Arthur would just have to see to dinner himself, and he’d make something so good that Merlin wouldn’t be able to turn it down.

He’d gained a bit of confidence by helping Merlin prepare that meal for Veronica, and there was always the internet to guide him if all else failed. Surely he could manage this on his own.

He took another look in the refrigerator, surveyed the contents of the freezer and the cupboards, and suddenly felt overwhelmed by the possibilities. He needed to select the main course first. There was a whole chicken in the freezer that Arthur hadn’t known about. Merlin liked chicken. Arthur liked chicken… It wasn’t very big. How long would that take to cook? Instead of dredging through the internet, he decided to do this the easy way. He called Judith.

She was understandably confused. “You want to cook a whole chicken?”

“I would have to thaw it first, right? How long would that take?”

Halfway through the explanation of how to cook a chicken—which Arthur definitely didn’t have time for today if Merlin was going to be home in an hour—Judith stopped midsentence and said, “Are you trying to cook a special dinner for Merlin? Is that what this is about?”

Before he could give an explanation or at least a short excuse, she said, “He’s really going to appreciate that.”

“Not if I present him with a plate of raw poultry. I need something that takes less time.”

In the end, she helped him select the salmon steaks, which were also frozen, but turned out to thaw rather quickly with the help of a little cold, running water. Judith gave him very precise instructions, which he followed to a tee. Less than an hour later, he had a rather grand looking meal prepared—salmon baked with lemon, glutinous rice, fresh greens, and even a small serving for each of them of sticky toffee pudding, though admittedly, that last one was from pre-packaged, single serve containers.

Arthur plated the dinners, set the table, and waited. He should have thought this through a bit more. He’d been so worried about finishing something that was actually worth eating that he hadn’t stopped to consider that Merlin might not arrive home right when he finished. Now it was getting cold and he still had no idea when Merlin would be back. Regan could have taken another turn for the worse. Merlin might be out all night.

Arthur was starting to put the food away when Merlin stumbled in. He headed straight for bed just as he’d said he would. He didn’t even notice Arthur until Arthur grabbed him by his elbow and redirected him to the dining table.

“Wha—?”

“I can’t believe you drove home in this state.”

“Didn’t,” Merlin murmured. “Took the bus.”

“Good! Now before you nod off, you’re going to eat something.”

It was only then that Merlin realized there was food ready and waiting.

“I’ll warm this back up. Sit.” And he pushed Merlin into his usual chair. It was easy to do. He practically collapsed onto the seat.

Arthur put the fish and rice in the microwave for a minute, then sat the food in front of Merlin and watched him slowly deduce where it had come from.

“You cooked dinner? From scratch?” He took a bite. “It actually tastes good, too.”

“You have so little faith in me. You’re wounding my pride you know.”

“No, I’m not. I’ve never even seen you use the cooker on your own before.”

“Yes, well, you needed to eat something before passing out, and you clearly weren’t going to take any efforts toward that end yourself.”

“You could have bought something. You didn’t have to put so much time into it.”

Maybe Merlin was finally getting the point. “I know.”

Merlin was watching him carefully now, a hint of a smile creeping onto his face, and the effort had definitely been worth it.

“Aren’t you going to eat too?”

For a man who claimed to be too tired to eat, he was doing a rather speedy job of clearing his plate.

“I wanted to gauge your honest reaction.”

“I really am impressed.”

“Good.” Arthur reminded himself that it was okay to show Merlin how he felt and didn’t stop himself from smiling. “I was hoping you would be. I learned a long time ago that you can’t impress someone if you don’t put in any effort.”

“You don’t need to impress me.”

“Maybe. But I wanted to.”

Arthur was just beginning to clear the table when Veronica stopped by to demand that he keep up with his end of their agreement by ironing her clothes.

“I have to run into work for a few hours tonight, but I need you to be done by the time I get home. I’ve got an important presentation first thing tomorrow morning, and I don’t need you disturbing me as I try to sleep.”

She stood there, waiting for Arthur to follow her back to her flat.

“I’ll be right behind you. Just going to finish this,” he raised the dirty plates in his hands as if she could have missed them, “first.”

She frowned at him, glanced over to Merlin and upgraded her look to a scowl before huffing and heading back the way she’d come.

“You ironing.” Merlin gave a sleepy little snicker. “I’d like to see that.”

Arthur rolled his eyes. “She’s probably going to want me to iron her bed sheets and her tea towels and every other scrap of fabric in her flat.”

“I know a spell to take out wrinkles. Probably won’t alter the colours.”

Probably? Arthur snorted. “I don’t like those odds. Besides, you’re too exhausted. You’re going to bed.”

Merlin made a soft little grunt and stared at the table where his dinner plate used to be. He looked like he was debating the merits of getting up and sleeping in a proper bed versus sleeping at the table and not having to move. Arthur helped him along with the decision, grabbed hold of an arm and hauled him to his feet, turned him in the direction of the bathroom.

“Off you go. Brush your teeth. Go to sleep.”

“Bossy.”

“Yes, and I’ll be back to check to make sure you’ve done as you’re told.”

“Do I look like I’m five to you?” Merlin snorted a laugh then went still and let out a barely there whimper.  

“What?”

“Nothing, just… I had a sudden image of you as a father.”

Arthur didn’t know what to say. It wasn’t as if he hadn’t tried to be one.

“I’d have liked that, you know. I’d have watched over them.”

Something painful squeezed inside Arthur’s chest, made it hard to breath. “You’d have had to watch them die too.”

Merlin shrugged. “No different than every other person I’ve ever known. Would have been worth it.”

“Is that something you’ve ever considered for yourself? Fatherhood, I mean.”

He was assuming that Merlin had never fathered any children, but what if he had? There’d been a woman in Merlin’s life at some point in time. Arthur was still too afraid to ask about her. He didn’t even know her name, didn’t know how they’d met or the nature of their relationship. He only knew that Merlin had cared for her—that Merlin had cared for someone _other than him_ —and even though he knew it was unfair, he didn’t like that. Arthur grimaced. For all he knew, Merlin could have married her and had a passel of children.

He hoped such an important life event would have been something that Merlin would have told him about by now, but it could be that it was simply too painful to talk about. Infant mortality rates had been terrible until fairly recent in history. Maternal mortality rates too. And even if they hadn’t died young, outliving your children would be horrible no matter how old they were when they passed on to the next life.

“Gods, no,” Merlin snorted.

Arthur began to relax, but the moment was short-lived as Merlin hung his head, frowning at the floor. He was torn between asking more questions and abandoning his reluctance for physical displays of affection and pulling Merlin into a hug that he clearly needed.

Before he could decide what to do, Merlin straightened, cleared his throat, and said, “Going to wash up for bed now.”

Arthur stayed where he was as Merlin headed down the hallway. “Don’t think this means I’m not coming back to check on you.”

Merlin turned his head back to look at him and said, “Yes, _sire!”_ His tone was lighthearted, but his smile didn’t reach his eyes.

That painful something in Arthur’s chest gave another squeeze. He wanted to go after him, give him that hug after all, but Merlin turned into the bathroom. Arthur left him to his washing up and crossed the hall to Veronica’s.

Once he stepped foot into her flat, she tugged him along to her kitchen where she had a load of laundry spilling out of the machine and an overflowing basket full of shirts and trousers that looked like they’d purposely been wadded into balls and crammed together in order to maximize wrinkles. He stared in disbelief as she prattled on about how she wanted things done.

When he finally managed to get words out he said, “This will take hours!”

“You better get started then.”

She left with Arthur still gawping at the task before him. He was definitely regretting agreeing to her stupid conditions. He could have devised a better way to get her to meet Owen, even if it meant resorting to trickery.

Before he got started on the ironing, he went back to his flat as promised, half expecting to find Merlin asleep in the bathroom. That wasn’t the case. Merlin had changed into a pair of navy pyjama bottoms and a threadbare t-shirt that Arthur suspected had been in his wardrobe for the last 30 years, if not longer. His fringe was damp, as if he’d washed his face but had been too lazy to move his hair out of the way. As Arthur drew closer, he could smell a trace of mint on Merlin’s breath. Arthur might have been impressed if not for the fact that he stood just a few steps away from his bedroom door, gazing with half lidded eyes at the carpet like he meant to fall asleep right there. It was as if he’d used any energy he might have got from his supper in preparing for bed and was now utterly spent.

Arthur put his hands on Merlin’s shoulders and guided him toward his bed. It felt disturbingly akin to leading a drunk man.

Merlin sat on the edge of his bed and resumed the posture he’d used at the dinner table.

“Come on. You look like a toddler that’s refusing to nap.”

“I wasn’t playing. I was trying to save a little girl’s life.”

“Right you are.”

A subtle smile crept tugged at the corners of Merlin’s lips.

“What’s that dopey little grin for?” It wasn’t his I-got-Arthur-to-admit-he-was-wrong face.

“You cooked me dinner.”

“Yes.”

“And last week, you asked me to the gala all proper like.”

That wasn’t quite what happened, but if that was the way Merlin wanted to remember it, Arthur wasn’t going to correct him. “What of it?”

Merlin shrugged, murmured, “Starting to think you really care about me,” his eyelids sliding closed even as he spoke.

“Don’t be ridiculous, Merlin, of course—”

Arthur’s mobile rang. He saw that it was Veronica and hit the ignore button.

He looked back up at Merlin, said, “Of course, I care about you.” But it was too late. Merlin had tipped over on his side and was already snoring softly.

Merlin hadn’t seriously been doubting how much Arthur valued him, had he? He’d just been teasing. Right? He’d have to be a complete idiot to— Well… “Fuck,” Arthur said. “We’re not done talking about this.”

Sighing, Arthur lifted Merlin’s legs onto the bed and arranged him into a more comfortable position. Merlin’s arms had broken out in goose bumps, and his skin felt a little cool to the touch. Arthur picked a blanket up from where Merlin must have kicked it onto the floor the previous night and draped it over the idiot. The single, thin blanket didn’t look warm enough to Arthur’s eye, and Merlin was partially laying on the rest of his blankets, so Arthur retrieved a heavy quilt from the storage chest in his bedroom and laid that over Merlin as well.

When he was satisfied that Merlin was sleeping comfortably, Arthur stepped out into the hallway to listen to Veronica’s voicemail message. He let out an exasperated huff before the message even ended. She’d ruined his moment with Merlin just to remind him of which items she wanted starched and to issue a warning that he’d best not damage any of her clothes.

With one last wistful look at Merlin’s sleeping form, he trudged back over to Veronica’s and started in on her ironing. She’d definitely gone out of her way to make this harder than it needed to be. If Merlin weren’t completely exhausted, Arthur would be reconsidering his offer of help, regardless of the risks to the fabric. 

It was a relatively mindless task, though it took more physical effort than he’d expected. He’d always had servants to press his clothes in Camelot—Merlin’s complaints seemed a bit more justified now—and these days he didn’t usually bother with ironing his own clothes. He liked to get the wrinkle-free fabrics and if he had something that needed to be pristine, he sent it to the dry cleaner. His arm started to get tired after the first thirty minutes or so. He was strong, but the motion of working the iron across the array of shirts, trousers, and skirts was not one his muscles were used to making for extended periods of time. His feet were getting tired too from standing in the same place for so long. He took a short break to stretch his arms behind his back and above his head before continuing and decided to put this time alone to good use—he started reviewing what he wanted to say to Merlin in his head, tried to envision Merlin’s reactions.

He knew he needed to convey the seriousness of his confession. It wouldn’t do to have Merlin thinking he was taking the piss out of him. He could imagine Merlin laughing at the perceived joke, not because it was funny, but because he was trying to play along or cover up his suspicious unease at being forced into the topic of _feelings_ again without their usual motivator of imminent danger to their lives.

Arthur needed to convey the depth of his feelings too. Merlin was the only person that made him feel truly whole—the only person that ever could—but he didn’t want to ramble on about every little thing that had brought him to that conclusion. The detailed knowledge would only make things awkward between them if Merlin didn’t share his feelings. That had to be avoided at all costs.

No matter what, Merlin had to know that everything was up to him. That they could be whatever Merlin wanted. If that meant staying just as they were, Arthur would learn to live with it. If it was some sort of modern equivalent of chaste courtly love, Arthur would accept it.

Arthur let out an extended yawn and hung a neatly pressed shirt on a hanger. Going over his list of criteria again, it felt like a lot to work into a single conversation, and he only had until the end of the week to get it right.


	5. The Special Request Incident

Merlin sat at the hospital with Margo. All his efforts from the previous day had lasted through the night, but Merlin could feel them beginning to slip. Trying to keep Regan alive without a soul was like trying to bail out a leaky boat with a teaspoon. Every time he thought he was making progress, ten more problems came flooding in.

“She can’t take much more of this,” Margo said. “We need to try your plan now.”

Merlin chaffed at the use of the word ‘we.’ He wasn’t even happy about ‘your plan.’ He wasn’t the one that wanted to do this. He was on record as saying that this was a very risky path, that it likely wouldn’t succeed, and that it was horribly stupid that Margo had put her child in this condition in the first place.

“I’ve told you it won’t work yet.”

“Then find a way to make it work!” She was up and out of her seat in an instant, grabbing Merlin’s arms and shaking him.

“Let go of me.”

He could understand her desperation, understood the deep guilt that was making everything worse, but he didn’t have room for her troubles. He had his own worries. He had more than his share, lifetimes worth. He’d always thought that having Arthur back would solve all his problems, but it hadn’t. It only gave him a new set of worries. What was coming? What did that prophecy mean with that talk of mourners and saying goodbye? When was Arthur going to leave him again?

_That’s the fatigue talking again. You’ve made it through this far. You’ll be all right._

He needed to get home. Spend some time with Arthur. That would cheer him up. A small smile crept onto his face for a moment, even as Margo continued her rant. Then a sobering little voice in the back of his head reminded him that he needed to enjoy this while it lasted, that he was lucky to have this much. Beyond lucky. No one else had their dearly departed returned to them.

“Stop.” Merlin said, voice firm and subtly enhanced in a way that Margo would be able to feel in her bones, but wouldn’t be able to detect, not even with her little magic amplifying bracelet.

The effect was immediate. She stopped speaking mid-word, her jaw halfway open. She dropped her grip on his arms as if he were a red-hot brand.

“I’m leaving now. Regan will be fine overnight.”

He could see that she wanted to stop him, wanted to force him back into the chair beside the incubator. Wanted him to sit up with her day and night without rest.

When he got to his car, he folded his arms across the steering wheel and rested his forehead against them, only to bolt right back up when he realized that he’d be asleep within moments if he let himself stay that way.

He started up his car, pulled out of the car park, onto the street, and headed home. _Home to Arthur._ What a thought. After so many centuries on his own, he had Arthur back in his life. They slept every night just a few paces away, with only a thin wall between them. They ate together each evening. They watched telly, teased each other at every opportunity, and sat close even when they had nothing to say, simply because they could.

Merlin still had trouble believing it some days. Arthur was _here_ , and he was… Merlin didn’t know what he was doing. Feeling guilty maybe for some stupid reason or another. Trying to make sure Merlin knew he was forgiven and that there were no sore feelings for all the lies. Or maybe it wasn’t that complicated, but whether it was simply from spending time in the modern era, Judith’s influence, or the fact that he’d lost everything once before, Arthur was doing things Merlin would have never expected him to do—asking him to the gala like he wasn’t simply a plus one, cooking him dinner, looking at him as if he knew what Merlin was thinking and didn’t mind, like maybe he even understood. Whatever the reason, Arthur really needed to stop or Merlin was going to start thinking all these gestures meant something they didn’t.

When Merlin walked in the door, Arthur said, “Ah, you’re finally home. Good. I was thinking Chinese tonight.”

“Sure.”

“Sorry there’s no homemade meal waiting for you this time.”

Merlin let out a little laugh. “That really was nice, Arthur, but I certainly don’t expect it every day. I have time to make something if you’d rather not eat takeaway.”

“No, no. I want something quick with no cleanup. I have something else I want to do tonight.”

Merlin’s heart sank. “Something for Veronica?” That wasn’t what Arthur’s tone implied, didn’t match the little smirk on his face either. This was another of those things that Merlin knew couldn’t mean what it seemed.

“Nope, she’s visiting her parents tonight. I’m free from her clutches for the evening.”

“Good.” They could have a nice quiet evening together. It was just what Merlin needed to brighten his spirits.

“I wanted to use the opportunity to ask you something.”

“Okay. What is it?”

“After dinner. I’m famished.”

Arthur’s expression was something Merlin couldn’t quite classify. It was somewhere between nervous excitement and anxious dread that Merlin found particularly unnerving. He couldn’t imagine what Arthur could possibly have to ask, or why he wouldn’t just ask now.

Arthur called in their order, began chatting about his day, asking about Merlin’s. Merlin was only half listening. How could he pay proper attention when Arthur was being so unforthcoming about his mystery question?

Merlin ate his dinner quickly so that Arthur would get on with it, but Arthur, for all that he claimed to be hungry, ate at a snail’s pace. As soon as Arthur’s last bite was in his mouth, Merlin was clearing the table and washing up the few pieces of dinnerware that had been used. He turned to Arthur who was wiping the crumbs from the table.  
  
“All right, what is it you wanted to ask me?”

He hoped he wasn’t coming across as overbearing. He told himself to calm down. It was probably something stupid anyway. ‘Hey, Merlin. Would you mind if we had some friends over to watch a game next week?’ Or maybe, ‘Merlin, could you pick up my suit for the gala from the dry cleaner tomorrow?’

“Why don’t we sit down first?”

They needed to be sitting down? Well, fuck. What if it wasn’t trivial? What if it was something bad? ‘I know I asked you to move in, but it’s not working out like I thought. Think you could find a new place? Somewhere nearby so I can still pester you, but just not here, because I need more space.’ Or oh, hell, what if it was about a woman? ‘Merlin, do you think it’s okay for me to move on? Guinevere was wonderful and I still love her, but I met a fascinating, beautiful woman the other day and asked her out. Could you make yourself scare for a while so I can bring her back to the flat?’ Or maybe, ‘I’d like to take her to the gala like you recommended. Are you okay staying home after all?’

That would be awful. Might just break his heart. It would be one thing for Arthur to find someone new, he half expected it, really. But to withdraw an offer he’d already made...

Merlin sat down at the table, tried to head off any potential disasters. “I know I can be difficult to live with,” he said.

“What?”

“I leave my bath towels on the floor and oversleep just about every day.”

“That’s true, but—”

“And I was just at the tailor the other day—”

“Merlin.”

“—and I already paid—”

“ _Merlin!_ ”

Merlin paused.

“I don’t know what you’re on about, but I do have something important to ask you, so if you’ll just let me?”

Merlin shrugged his shoulders, feeling helpless to prevent the inevitable.

“And please hear me out before you say no.”

This was definitely going to be bad. Merlin tried to stop his face from displaying any trace of what he really felt. Whatever Arthur had to say, he’d deal with it. They were two sides of the same coin after all, it wasn’t as if Arthur could hate him all of a sudden. As long as Arthur was happy and safe, Merlin wou—

“I want you to teach me magic.”

The avalanche of dire predictions and pathetic excuses roaring through Merlin’s head came to a sudden halt, leaving his mind utterly blank. He couldn’t possibly have heard what he thought he heard.

After what was probably a long, awkward silence for Arthur, judging by his expectant stare, Merlin said, “Say that again? I thought you…” He wasn’t sure he could repeat it. Arthur would laugh.

“Teach me magic.”

Nope, there it was again. It didn’t make sense. Why would he want to? Even though he accepted it now, he’d spent most of his time alive hating magic.

“Arthur, you don’t need to learn magic; that’s what you’ve got me for.”

“That’s not the point. I’m not trying to replace you.”

“Then…”

“I forced you to learn the basics of sword work and how to shoot a rifle—”

“Yes, and you know how well that turned out.”

“—I thought maybe you could teach me something you’re good at for a change. Magic is important to you. I want to understand it better.”

Merlin took a deep, sudden breath, felt an embarrassing prickle at his eyes. He couldn’t blink until the extra moisture had time to drain the slow way through the tiny ducts to his nasal cavity. Arthur really, truly needed to stop with this sort of thing.

“I’m… not even sure you’re capable of working magic.”

“You don’t have faith in me? Despite what you like to say, I know how to work hard.”

“Hard work may not be enough.”

“We won’t know unless we try. Come on. It doesn’t have to be anything grand. Just… teach me to light a candle.”

“That’s too dangerous,” Merlin said without thinking. “Morgana once lit a candle with magic before she knew what she was doing.  Nearly burned out her chambers.”

“Is this your roundabout way of agreeing?”

Merlin didn’t answer. He went to the cupboard and pulled out one of the emergency candles Arthur had on hand in case the power went out and the batteries for the torch died. He worked the candle into a holder and set it in the middle of the table.

“You just said lighting a candle was too dangerous.”

“I’m not going to teach you to light a candle. I’m going to teach you to put one out.”

Arthur beamed at him. Merlin tried telling himself that Arthur was just proud of himself for convincing Merlin to do what he wanted, but he couldn’t help feeling like there was more to it than that. As if that beautiful smile was meant to tell him that Merlin had made him truly happy in a way that no one else could.

“I’ll be the perfect student.” Arthur put his elbows on the table and leaned forward, eager. “What’s the spell then? I assume there is one. There usually is, right?”

“You won’t learn any spells today. There’s a lot you have to learn before you get that far.”

Arthur frowned, directed his obvious pout straight at Merlin. Merlin was unimpressed.

“I thought you were going to be the perfect student.” Before the pout could turn into a complaint, Merlin said, “Now, shut up and pay attention. This is the most important lesson.” And Merlin started in on the nature of magic and its place in the world, its purpose. He talked for hours and Arthur listened with as much attention as he would have when presiding over a trial back in Camelot, carefully considering all the information, asking a few questions here and there.

At the end of the lecture, Merlin lit the candle and asked Arthur to focus on the flame. “You need to reach out with your heart to feel its life. It may not be alive in the common sense, but it has its own energy, and it’s connected to everything around it—the light and heat it gives to its surrounding, the smoke it emits into the air, it’s physical connection to the wick, the wax, the candle holder, the table, to you.”

Arthur looked confused, then, after a few minutes of intense concentration, frustrated.

“I don’t expect you to get it right away.”

Arthur scoffed. “You don’t expect me to ever get it.”

“I don’t know. You’ve certainly got determination. If you keep up like this... Who knows.”

“I still don’t understand the point. Explain it again.”

“It’s like… perfecting your posture and lining up your sights before pulling the trigger. You wouldn’t expect to hit the target if you were holding the rifle wrong or if you shot randomly without aiming, would you? It’s not so different with magic. You need to be able to feel the flame if you intend to put it out.”

The analogy didn’t seem to help.

“But what exactly am I feeling for, and how do I do it?”

“I’m not sure how to help you there, Arthur. This isn’t something I have to make an effort at. Fire… It feels like a… a high-pitched buzzing maybe, except you don’t hear it with your ears.”

“You know that makes no sense, right?”

“I did warn you it wouldn’t be easy.”

Arthur let out a heavy sigh, slouched back in his seat, and scrubbed a hand through his hair. Merlin’s fingers twitched with the desire to comb the mussed strands back into place.

“You look tired, Merlin. It’s late. You should go to bed.” He sat up straight again. “I’m going to stay up a while longer and work on this a bit more.”

“No, you need supervision.”

“I’ll be fine. I’m not like Morgana. I’m not going to burn the flat down with my raw untrained power.”

Merlin stayed firmly seated, prepared to stay up until dawn if that was what Arthur wanted to do.

“I’m not going to practice a second more with you here. You’re going to bed.”

“Fine,” Merlin huffed after a long moment, “but promise me you’re only going to practice what I’ve showed you so far.”

“Yes, yes. I promise.”

Merlin muttered under his breath as he headed off to bed. He should have known that Arthur’s idea of a perfect student would involve issuing orders and arguing with the teacher.

Unlike most other nights, Merlin didn’t drop off to sleep the instant his head hit the pillow. Arthur was learning magic. Or, was trying to, at any rate. Purely as a gesture. For him. Merlin was in severe danger of letting that knowledge go to his head. He rolled onto his side, drew up his knees.

This was not good. How was he supposed to stay focused on saving the world from impending disaster when Arthur’s smile stared at him from the backs of his lids when he closed his eyes? When his laugh filled Merlin’s heart so full, the excess poured into his veins and threatened to drown every cell in his body? When he had to put in more and more effort every passing minute just to keep himself at a respectable distance?

He loathed keeping secrets from Arthur again, but this was something he had to work through on his own. He didn’t want his runaway imagination coming between them. Maybe after he got used to Arthur being around a little more, he’d settle down a bit.

He let out a big yawn. He needed sleep more than he cared to admit, but he’d worked through this kind of fatigue before without resorting to drastic measures. With Arthur back, it should be easy to do again. He couldn’t let Arthur down again, not this time.

He turned over to his other side, checked the time—1:26 am—and yawned again. Gods, he wanted to sleep, but how could he? _Arthur wanted to learn magic for him._ He couldn’t get over it.

An idle thought flickered through his head. It wasn’t the first time, but always before he’d pushed the thought away before it could fully form. Now, he didn’t have sufficient energy to regulate his thoughts and so he considered: What if all these things Arthur was doing were exactly what they seemed?

What was that he’d said the other day? “I like being with you.” Merlin groaned. For all that was sacred, what had life with Judith done to him?

Merlin flopped onto his back, took his spare pillow and maneuvered it under his knees.

There was a soft knocking at his door. “Merlin,” Arthur whispered, “you awake?”

“Yes,” Merlin groaned, trying not to sound as awake as he felt and failing. ~~~~

“Woke up to a text from Veronica and heard you thrashing around,” Arthur was still whispering for some unfathomable reason.

Merlin could make out the shape of him moving into his room, squatting down beside the bed. Merlin didn’t bother sitting up; he was too tired for that. He just rolled over to look at him with the least amount of effort. Arthur cocked his head to the side so that his view wasn’t so tilted.

After a short staring match, Arthur said, “All right?”

“Just can’t sleep is all.” Merlin followed along with the whispering thing. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

Arthur leaned forward a little. “I’m worried about you.”

“You don’t need to be.” He wished he could sound more convincing. Sitting up would probably help support his claim, but his body felt like lead.

“Is it insomnia?”

“No.”

Arthur considered a moment. “You’ve got yourself too used to staying up late and sleeping through the morning and can’t get your sleep cycle back in sync?”

“That’s not it either.” Merlin didn’t like where this conversation was going.

“Then—”

“What is it that Veronica wants?”

Arthur shifted back a fraction. “A glass of water, can you believe it? I tried telling her to get it her own damn self. I think she just wants me to see her in her nightgown.”

“She is rather pretty, if that’s the sort of look you go for.”

Even in the dark, Merlin could see Arthur grimace.

“I supposed you always did prefer dark hair.” A good bit less selfishness too for that matter.

“Yeah.”

Inexplicably, Arthur reached up and smoothed his hand over the exposed side of Merlin’s head. And it wouldn’t have been nearly so strange—because it wasn’t all that different from the way Arthur used to ruffle his hair back in Camelot—but for the timing.

“Guess you’ve figured out my type.”

What on earth did that mean? Merlin’s heart raced, and he revised his opinion. This wasn’t like when Arthur used to ruffle his hair at all. His hand even lingered a moment at the base of Merlin’s skull.

It was over too quickly for Merlin’s liking and he just wanted to be touching again. Drained as he was, he lacked the restraint necessary to stop himself. He slid his hand across the mattress until the side of his pinky rested against Arthur’s thumb. He wasn’t sure what he was thinking. This was a terrible idea. It wasn’t as if Arthur could possibly fail to notice that their hands were touching, but the seconds began to tick by and Arthur didn’t pull back. For such a tiny thing, the contact was giving Merlin all sorts of foolish ideas.

He only had a single and it would put them on the wrong sides of the bed for Arthur’s liking, but Merlin wanted to shift back, have Arthur lay down beside him. They wouldn’t even have to do anything more; simply being that close would feel amazing.

Arthur was watching him now with a pensive expression and whatever he saw must not have met with his approval because he slid his hand on top of Merlin’s and gave him a couple of reassuring, friendly pats. And as if that weren’t enough, he left his hand there, right on top of Merlin’s. It didn’t make any sense. This wasn’t one of Arthur’s usual gestures, not remotely. The only explanation Merlin could come up with was that Arthur wasn’t just worried about him. He was terrified. Merlin should really do something to ease his nerves, but well… Arthur’s hand felt so very nice his thoughts were starting to go a little fuzzy.

Before he could think it through, Merlin was turning his hand over so that his palm would face Arthur’s. He moved as slowly as he could, as though that would prevent Arthur from noticing what he was doing. _Idiot! You always have to push your luck, don’t you?_ He must have lost his mind.

Arthur hadn’t stopped watching him and Merlin stared right back, looking for any sign that Arthur was about to snap out of his strange mood and berate him for this unwelcome gesture. Arthur’s only response was to lift his hand, but not so far as to lose contact completely. His fingertips skimmed across Merlin’s skin.

Once Merlin had finished repositioning his hand, there was a long, agonizing moment where he felt sure that Arthur was about to lift his hand away entirely. It felt like he was offering up his bare soul with the full knowledge that it might be chewed up and spat out any second. Just as Merlin was ready to pull his hand back, Arthur splayed out his fingers and moving just as slowly as Merlin had, slid his hand down and forward, pressing their palms together. Merlin let out a pent-up breath. Arthur’s skin was warm and smooth without being too soft. He might not work with a sword anymore, but his hands were still strong. With the awkward angle, they ended with Merlin’s thumb between Arthur’s pinky and ring finger and Arthur griping more of Merlin’s wrist than his hand, but it was fine. It was more than fine. It was perfect.

Merlin didn’t know what to make of it. Arthur Pendragon did not hold hands. Not with Merlin, anyway. All he knew was that he had to enjoy this moment while he could because any second now Arthur was going to take all this back, like he always did. Try to laugh it off, deny it happened. That was their way.

“Merlin,” Arthur whispered, voice quavering, “there’s something I need to tell you.” He sounded more nervous than when he’d been planning to propose to Gwen, like he wanted to be pacing back and forth across the room, wringing his hands.

No wonder Arthur was buttering him up. Here it was. The bad news Merlin had expected at dinner, it was coming now. “What’s wrong?”

In the span of a heartbeat, Arthur’s expression shifted.

“Wrong? No, nothing. Sorry. Just… wish you’d let me help you.”

A soft chiming sound came from Arthur’s direction. “That’ll be Veronica again. I better get her that water before she decides to start pounding on the door and waking the neighbours.”

Arthur squeezed his hand gently before letting go, trailed his fingers across Merlin’s palm as he pulled away, leaving a path of pleasant tingles across his skin.

Suddenly it was all too much. He couldn’t handle these strange, beautiful things Arthur was doing for him and at the same time, he ached for more. Even worse, what was he going to do when this was over and Arthur left him again? He didn’t want to have to go back to how he was before, didn’t want to have to live through the pain of losing him again.

Fat tear drops spilled from the corners of his eyes and raced their way onto his pillow. He sucked in a noisy breath, tried letting it out slow and controlled. It came out as a full sob instead. Within moments he’d given up trying to prevent the inevitable and let all the fear and pain bubble up out of him in a disgusting mess of tears, snot, and pathetic little whimpers.

He hadn’t broken down like this in ages. He felt like a complete idiot. He was supposed to be enjoying this extra time he had with Arthur, not wasting it grieving for him like he was already gone, but the ache in his heart was as bad as it had ever been. In that moment, it felt like he might never recover and no amount of logic improved his outlook.

“Merlin?” Arthur said, suddenly standing outside Merlin’s door again.

How had he got there without Merlin noticing? He hadn’t heard the click of the front door opening and closing.

Merlin wiped his cheeks clean and cleared his throat. “Go back to bed, Arthur.”

_“Merlin.”_

He wished Arthur would just call him some asinine name and let it go.

“I said leave me alone.”                                                                         

Merlin did him a favour and used his magic to swing the door shut. Arthur always had hated seeing him cry.

He was up early in the morning for breakfast with Arthur—partially because he’d never really fallen asleep in the first place and partially because he felt an overwhelming motivation to prove to Arthur that there was no need to worry. He fried up a few eggs, made toast, and brewed a small pot of coffee.

Arthur was still groggy as they sat across from each other eating, and that annoying voice in Merlin’s head from the day before pointed out that when they finished eating, Merlin had one less meal with Arthur left before there were none, but as the sun rose and Arthur started clearing the plates, the fear had less power over him. He was able to enjoy the moment for what it was.

Merlin set his empty coffee cup on the worktop by the sink, said, “Sorry about last night. I get overwhelmed sometimes, that’s all. All better now.”

Arthur turned away from his chore to face Merlin. “You don’t have to pretend for me. You’re allowed to feel down sometimes. Or… scared or angry or... You don’t have to pretend.”

“Listen to you—spouting emotional wisdom at me as if you’re the one with the reputation for giving advice.”

“Don’t be too impressed. I have problems of my own.” As if steadying himself, Arthur paused to take a deep breath. “I have trouble sharing how I’m feeling when it comes to the things that really matter. The more important it is, the more impossible it seems to get the words out. I’m trying to do better though.”

“You can practice on me if you like.” He made the offer knowing full well that it might hurt to learn whatever it was that Arthur found so important, but at the end of the day, more than anything else, he really did just want to help the man he’d dedicated his life to.

“You’re such an idiot, Merlin,” Arthur said with a laugh. “No, no, don’t glare at me like that. I appreciate the offer. I might just take you up on it.”

Arthur’s smile was so bright, Merlin couldn’t help but return it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay in getting this chapter out. Hope you enjoyed it despite the wait - and the angst! This part of the series was originally meant to be all lighthearted and humorous. It's not really turning out that way, but I suppose it blends in with rest of the series a bit better like this. It's hard to go from Arthur's friends being murdered to pure silliness.


	6. The Payback Incident

Before Arthur could even make it all the way to his door Tuesday evening, Veronica was shoving a tray full of junk into his arms. She must have been watching for him out the window.

“What the hell is this?”

He was in no mood to be civil. He’d stayed up too late last night trying to feel that inaudible buzzing from the candle flame that Merlin had failed to adequately explain to him. Then Veronica had woken him up after less than an hour of sleep for her petty little chore, and he could hardly get back to sleep after that. Not knowing Merlin was still lying awake, clearly upset by something. What if it was something Arthur had done? Or not done? Merlin hadn’t been too keen on teaching him magic initially, but Arthur thought he’d quite warmed up to the idea. Nothing else had happened last night that should have upset him.

It couldn’t have been the way Arthur had held his hand. Merlin had practically come out and asked him to. He’d been hoping that meant they were making a little progress together. Now he was wondering if Merlin had reached out to him merely because Arthur happened to be there when he was already upset and feeling vulnerable. Whatever was bothering him must have been the reason that he couldn’t sleep in the first place. Would Merlin have done the same thing if it were Wayne that was there instead of Arthur? Would Merlin have been better off if Arthur hadn’t left to get Veronica that stupid glass of water?

He wished he’d have been able to think of something that would make him feel better, even if only a little bit. Instead, he’d stood out in the hallway a good five minutes feeling completely useless and inadequate after Merlin shut him out of his bedroom. He couldn’t even comfort his closest friend. How had he ever managed to rule an entire kingdom?

With all that racing through his head, he’d had a difficult time focusing on his job. To make matters worse, he’d spent the entire afternoon trying to interview an uncooperative witness. It was only at the end of his day that the man started to feel comfortable enough with him to tell what he knew. He should have been home hours ago, but he couldn’t let the opportunity go to waste just because normal work hours were over.

He’d called Merlin to let him know he would be home late and had been glad that Cade and the rest had been out of earshot. He wasn’t in the mood for more Merlin-is-your-boyfriend type comments.

Veronica picked something off the tray and thrust it up in front of his face. He had to lean back to be able to focus his eyes on what turned out to be a tarnished silver chain.

“It’s my jewelry and everything you need to get it back to its original shine except a bit of warm water.”

Arthur looked at the contents of the tray. There were rings and bracelets, necklaces and earrings. It was mostly silver, but there were a few gold pieces as well. Some had gem stones that may or may not be genuine. There was also a toothbrush, a small grey cloth, and a container of bicarbonate of soda.

She patted him on the arm. “Be a dear and finish that lot up before I go to work tomorrow?” She retreated to her flat before Arthur could protest.

When Merlin exited his bedroom a few minutes later with a basket full of folded laundry, he found Arthur sitting on the floor with Veronica’s jewelry collection spread out in front of him.

“What’s that you’re doing there, Arthur?” Merlin covered his hand with his mouth for a moment and quietly cleared his throat. When he dropped his hand, he wore an overdone frown.

Arthur scowled at him and his poorly concealed amusement. “You’re behind this, aren’t you? You’ve been giving her ideas! You’re supposed to be helping me!”

“I still can,” Merlin said in complete seriousness. Arthur was about to hand him the polishing cloth, but then Merlin grinned. “I can give you a somewhat accurate version of George’s lecture on the proper dos and don’ts of polishing.”

Arthur grimaced. “I think I’d rather you didn’t.”

“First off,” Merlin said, altering his voice to enunciate his words more clearly and sound far more formal than usual. “You must understand how vital a well-polished wardrobe is for nobility.”

“ _Stop_.”

“You thought it was hilarious at the time—subjecting me to that drivel. It was a whole day, Arthur! You sentenced me to a whole day of, ‘His Highness’s armour must be spotless, Merlin. His belt buckle must shine! Isn’t this the most rewarding part of being a servant, Merlin?’ And that was only the beginning. After that, there was the proper way to serve your breakfast. The best way to wake you in the morning. The most efficient way to organize your clothes. And on and on for the rest of the week!”

Arthur laughed in spite of himself. It really had been funny at the time. And Merlin’s indignation all these centuries later only added to his amusement.

“What were you really doing when you were away that time? I realize now you weren’t at the tavern.”

Merlin sat on the floor with him, picked up the polishing cloth and absentmindedly rubbed at a sapphire ring while he told Arthur the story. The whole thing about a snake head implanted at the back of his neck turned Arthur’s stomach.

“That look right there,” Merlin pointed at him, “is just about the same one Gwen had when she saw the regrown snake head that Gaius had removed from my neck—genuine revulsion.”

“So Guinevere knew about this mess too.” That was the way with so many of the things Merlin had done for him. Gaius knew everything. Lancelot knew he was a sorcerer. Gwaine had escorted Merlin to the Crystal Cave when he lost his magic, even if he hadn’t known why. Guinevere knew Merlin had been captured by Morgana, likely tortured and forced to turn against him for a time.

“Sorry.”

“I know. Me too.” He only had himself to blame. If he’d been a little more open-minded, Merlin wouldn’t have felt the need to hide from him. “I don’t mean to make you feel bad. I don’t want to fight about it.” They’d done that already.

“We’re not fighting.”

“No. Suppose we’re not.” He gave Merlin a little smile. At least he was getting to hear about it now. “So finish your story.”

“I don’t actually remember trying to kill you, but that’s what Gaius and Gwen said, and I don’t have any reason to doubt them. Gaius said I was spectacularly bad at it. Apparently, I even ran myself into a stone pillar at one point while trying to attack you with a sword.”

“Maybe your subconscious knew you didn’t want to hurt me and was fighting back against Morgana’s magic.”

“You don’t think I’m just an inept assassin?”

“I must admit, you _are_ inept at a good many things.”

“Hey!”

“But Merlin, I’ve seen you take out our enemies with just as much competence as any of my knights. If you wanted me dead, I’d never have been king. I’m sure you could kill me right now, if you wanted.”

“ _Arthur_ …”

“Of course you _don’t_ want to hurt me, would never. Not even when under the influence of a bitter sorceress.” That was all there was to it in Arthur’s mind. “You must be awfully fond of me.”

“Must be.” Merlin said it like he was joking, but a soft blush crept onto his cheeks, and Arthur couldn’t resist lunging for him and wrestling him to the ground like he’d wanted to do last week.

Merlin struggled against him, laughing the whole time just as Arthur had known he would. Arthur seriously needed to stop overthinking these sorts of things. Within seconds they were a tangle of limbs, pushing and shoving at each other like they were ten years old.

Merlin was surprisingly difficult to get a good hold of. He kept wiggling his way out of Arthur’s grip.

“Gah!” Merlin said, as Arthur finally got a hand on his head and started making a mess of his hair. “Empty-headed brute!”

Arthur had one knee on the floor and was bracing himself against Merlin’s attacks with his other leg when his footing suddenly gave way. His foot slid through Veronica’s junk and collided with the base of a floor lamp with enough force to knock it off balance. It crashed to the ground, but he wasn’t worried about that.

“No cheating! You’re cheating!”

“I’m not! I wouldn’t!”

“You would too, Merlin!” he said, dragging Merlin toward him by a hand wrapped around his ankle. “You can’t lie to me. I know you!”

Someone pounded on their door. Arthur and Merlin both froze.

“James! Is that heathen attacking you?” Veronica sounded genuinely alarmed. “Do you need me to call the police?”

“Bugger off, Veronica! I am the police!”

A few seconds later, he heard her door slam. He could imagine her sulking and pouting at the dismissive treatment. He, on the other hand, rolled onto his back and sprawled across the floor with a smug little grin on his face. Merlin was in much the same position, except he was partway behind Arthur, his head and shoulders crossing the threshold into the kitchen. They both drew in ragged breaths, interrupted at odd intervals by progressively shorter bursts of laughter as they tried to settle down.

“Arthur?” Merlin said at last.

Arthur had to tip his head backward to see him. “Yeah?”

“I’m really happy you’re back.”

It was ridiculous—and possibly unhealthy at times—how much Merlin’s mood affected his own, but God, did Arthur love it when Merlin smiled at him like that. It made all his worries from the day fade into the background. And he was extra lucky today. He wasn’t usually treated to such a bright smile twice in one day.

“Give me another magic lesson tonight?”

“Yeah, all right.”

After a few more minutes of rest, he hauled himself off the floor and started cleaning up the mess they’d made while Merlin went to reheat their dinners. The lamp shade was bent slightly, but there didn’t appear to be any other damage. Veronica’s jewelry was scattered, and it took a few minutes to round everything up.  

When he settled down after they’d eaten to finish his stupid polishing chore, Merlin sat next to him. He didn’t think it was his imagination that Merlin positioned himself a fraction closer than before their little wrestling match.

They’d been working away in silence for some time when Merlin suddenly set his things down and said, “All right. I’ve had enough of this.” Then he spelled the cloth and brush into doing the cleaning all on their own. They moved around in midair as if some invisible hand were still guiding them.

Arthur gaped at him, made an indignant noise, said, “If you can do that, why have I been—”

“A little manual labor is good for you. Besides, magic doesn’t exist simply to make your life more convenient. That’s not what it’s for.”

Arthur immediately spotted several holes in Merlin’s reasoning. “So you never polished my armour like this?”

Merlin gave him a flat look that said, ‘What do you think?’ Out loud he said, “Of course I did, Arthur.”

“But you just said—”

“I only did it that way when I didn’t have another choice.”

Arthur took this to mean when he was too busy saving Camelot with magic to get his chores done in time and it wasn’t something that he could just skive off entirely, because lord knew, he’d certainly done that often enough.

“Well, and sometimes for practice.”

Arthur’s throat went suddenly tight. When was Merlin going to stop surprising him with these sorts of comments? The fact that he’d been skulking about Camelot doing magic the entire time they’d known each other was easy to accept by now, but he’d really only given thought to those critical moments—the times he’d saved Arthur’s life or protected Camelot and her people. He’d said he could work magic from the time he was a baby, so Arthur hadn’t yet considered that Merlin didn’t just know everything instinctively, that to learn complicated spells, he would have needed to practice just as Arthur had needed to practice with a sword.

He unwillingly imagined Merlin practicing spells in his chambers while he was busy training with the knights. Merlin would have been safe there from other servants, but it would have been so easy for Arthur himself to have ended practice early and barged in before his manservant took notice. What would he have done? In the early days… It pained him—real physical pains, stabs in his heart and lungs—to think that there had ever been a time when he might have considered, even for a second, turning Merlin into Uther for judgement. And worse, knowing that even after he’d been crowned king Merlin had genuinely feared that Arthur might have had him executed. That a good portion of his decision to keep his magic a secret had been to spare Arthur the pain of having to decide between upholding the laws he’d sworn to defend or protecting a friend.

“Arthur? You all right? Ready for your lesson?”

Arthur nodded, glad for the distraction, and since they were already on the topic, Merlin gave him a brief lecture about the dangers of using magic for selfish gain.

“So what about that time you cheated at dice so that you could take all my money? Suppose you think that was good for me too?”

Merlin hummed in agreement. “It was a good lesson in humility. Plus it was just funny. I think everyone else that was there agreed. It’s not selfish to bring joy to those around you. It’s not as if you really needed all that coin.”

Arthur rolled his eyes, but conceded that Merlin hadn’t taken his money out of greed. And considering the way he’d battered Merlin around the training field for his own good—and Arthur’s personal entertainment, if he were really honest with himself—he hardly had room to argue.

After the lecture, Merlin conjured a flame out of thin air so large that Arthur had to lean back from the heat. The larger flame did nothing to help Arthur sense the whispers of the magic that Merlin claimed were in all things. He was going to have to work on this every single day if he stood any chance of making progress.

“I think maybe you’re trying too hard.”

“You are full of unhelpful advice, you know that? How am I supposed to accomplish anything without effort?”

“This part, it’s not about effort. It’s about being open to the interconnected nature of the world around you. You need to be receptive.”

“I don’t know how to do that.”

“You’re doing it right now with me. Listening to what I have to say, trying to understand…”

“I don’t see how the skill of physically listening to you talk transfers to magic.”

“That’s what practice is for.”

-x-x-

At work the next day, Owen started pestering him about when he was going to get to meet Veronica and when none of Arthur’s answers were good enough for him, he just kept asking using slightly different phrasings.

He called Merlin over his lunch break to complain about it. “It reminds me of how DI Holder wanted to be introduced to Isabel.”

“Think they might have known each other before?”

“Not in…” Arthur glanced around to make sure no one was within earshot. He lowered his voice anyway. “Not back home, I don’t think. I only remember her visiting that one time. Owain had been dead for more than a year.” He paused. “It’s possible they could have meet before then. Owain grew up on his father’s estate near the southern border. He didn’t come to court to apply for knighthood until he was 21. They could have met in some other lifetime, too.”

“Or he could just be desperate for a girlfriend. He was complaining about not having one the first time I met him.”

“No, I really think there’s something to this.”

“All right. But before you go thinking this is the answer to all your problems, you should know that just because two people recognize each other from a past life, that doesn’t mean they are somehow destined to fall in love. People can even recognize old enemies.”

“He wouldn’t be so eager to meet her if that were the case here.”

“I’m just trying to make a point. They could have been friends or siblings in another life. Or he could have been her father or… anything really. She might not even know him. He might only have watched her from afar. It’s never a sure thing. Not even for people that end up together over and over. Just look at Gwen. She’s been with Lancelot more than anyone else, but it’s not as if she hasn’t loved other men.”

“Men like me you mean.”

“Sorry. Maybe that wasn’t the best example.”

“It’s fine, Merlin. Really. I would tell you if it wasn’t. You know I would.”

Owen suddenly came striding into Arthur’s view, waving a folder to get his attention.

“Hey, sorry, Merlin. I have to go. Something’s going on here.”

He was hoping that the report in Owen’s hand was the list of names from that anti-magic forum but it wasn’t. It was another of those unsubstantiated reports of “blood” in a local waterway.

“Let the patrol officers handle it this time. They’ll let us know if there’s anything we need to follow up with.”

“That’s what I thought too at first, but get this. The caller this time said there was a girl playing at the water’s edge.”

“Children have been known to play.”

“Right at the origin of the contamination?”

Now that was something new.

“I’m going to get to the bottom of this if it’s the last thing I do.”

His determination was admirable, but when Owen got back to the station a few hours later, all it took was a shake of the man’s head for Arthur to know that this report had been just as useless as all the others.

When he got home, Veronica demanded that he rearrange her furniture. He worked up a sweat maneuvering her giant bed and wardrobe around her tiny bedroom only to move everything back to its original position when she changed her mind. He woke up the next day with a sore back.

Knowing her time to boss him around was drawing to a close, she started texting Arthur first thing Thursday morning. When he didn’t reply quickly enough, she phoned him on his mobile, and when he ignored that too, because he was in the middle of scheduling assignments for his subordinates, she called the station and made the woman working the front counter take down her message when Arthur refused the call transfer.

By the time he got off work, he was about ready to throttle her. She wanted him to wash her dishes, mop her floors, sharpen her kitchen knives, organize her book shelves, and fluff her pillows. He wasn’t sure what she thought she was accomplishing by treating him this way. It certainly wasn’t improving his opinion of her.

“I never treated you like this,” he said to Merlin when he finally managed to get away from her.

Merlin didn’t say anything, just arched a single eyebrow.

“That was different. It was literally your job. You were getting paid.”

“Yes. Room and board and—”

“You had a salary.”

“I was getting to that part. Two whole bronze coins a week.”

“Oh, come on. You can’t compare that with how things are today.”

“I wasn’t complaining. It was more than I ever expected. We didn’t use money at all in Ealdor. Everything was on the barter system.”

That didn’t make Arthur feel any less guilty. Merlin had deserved so much better. “I wish I had— Well, we both did things back then that we wouldn’t today. Just look at our body count.”

“You think I wouldn’t do that again today if I had to? To protect you?”

Arthur knew the feeling, but wished Merlin would stop saying that sort of thing. “You don’t have to do that anymore.”

“I hope you’re right.”

-x-x-

Friday evening couldn’t come fast enough. Veronica had called him in the middle of work again, this time demanding that he supply her with some strange strawberry-raspberry hybrid. When he tried telling her there was no such thing and that this didn’t count as a valid request, she hung up on him.

Without preamble he said, “Now she’s asking for something that doesn’t even exist, Merlin,” as soon as he got home.

Merlin was only half listening. He was more interested in fiddling with the garment bag that he’d left hanging with their jackets in the entryway. He unzipped the bag to expose what must be his suit for the gala. Arthur peeked over his shoulder.

“Is that velvet, Merlin? Did you pull that out of the back of your wardrobe from the 70s?”

“What? No! I bought this especially for the occasion. The tailor recommended it for me. You can’t complain. All you said was a dark colour, and it’s navy, see?” Merlin waved a sleeve in Arthur’s direction.

“Stop messing about and help me figure out how to deal with Veronica.”

“You’re worrying too much. I can take care of it.”

“You’re going to create a new fruit?” Arthur’d thought he was coming to understand magic’s potential and its limitation, but he didn’t see how Merlin could so casually offer up such a feat.

“I don’t see why not.”

“Have you done that before?”

“No, but I’m sure I can figure it out.”

Arthur shook his head. “I know you can work magic, but that…”

“Watch this, Arthur.”

Merlin cupped his hands together like he was about to roll a pair of dice, leaned in to breath into the space between his palms, spoke a few words, and when he opened his hands…

“Incredible!” Arthur whispered, too in awe for anything more. A small butterfly, blue and beautiful fluttered out of his hands and over to Arthur. The insect landed on his sleeve and Arthur raised his arm for a closer look. This wasn’t like the dragon created of embers like the first time Merlin had intentionally showed Arthur his magic, and it wasn’t an illusion. It looked alive! It fluttered off his arm, passed over his head. Merlin watched it with nearly as much wonder as Arthur. He wasn’t controlling it; he’d created it.

“Merlin you… You created life!” Even with magic, it should be impossible. That was something for the gods.

“Not really. Look.”

As he watched, the insect dissolved in a glittering gold haze.

“The longest I can get them to stay around is a few days.”

“Merlin. You’re not giving yourself nearly enough credit here. A few days is… I don’t even have words for it.” There were some insects that naturally had lifespans shorter than that.

Merlin wasn’t convinced by Arthur’s enthusiasm for the matter.

“I’ll do the fruit the hard way. I’ll use magic to grow and breed the plants similar to how it would normally be done when making a hybrid… Just with a bit of help. Actually, a lot of help because a raspberry plant is a deciduous shrub while a straw—"

“Merlin, if you want to lecture someone on the intricacies of botany, go across the hall and talk to Veronica.”

“No thanks.” Merlin grimaced. “Anyway, that’s how I’ll do it so that they don’t accidentally disappear before she has the chance to eat them.”

“No. Absolutely not.”

“What? Why not?”

“She might appear empty-headed, but she’s not actually stupid. If we supply her with something that doesn’t exist anywhere else, she’s going to figure it out. I’m going to tell her it’s impossible, and that’s all there is to it.”

Merlin only shrugged and said, “I suppose I still manage to forget sometimes that things like this are easily researched online.”

“Idiot.”

So that Veronica couldn’t come up with some other ridiculous chore for him to do, Arthur waited until the time limit on their agreement was nearly up before he walked across the hallway to tell her she wasn’t getting away with demanding nonexistent fruit. She had a gleam in her eye that Arthur didn’t like, but as far as he was concerned his part of their stupid agreement was done. Now all he had to do was set up a time for her to meet Owen, and he could finally focus on preparing to attend tomorrow evening’s gala with Merlin. This was his self-imposed deadline after all. He needed to be in top form. No matter what happened, after tomorrow, things would never be quite the same between them again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry for the delays in getting this out. I can't believe this took me two months. The good news is that I'm almost done with the last two chapters as well. Shouldn't take long to get them up.


	7. The Gala Incident

Arthur had expected to laugh himself silly when he finally saw Merlin in his suit for the gala. That was not what happened. The trousers, waistcoat, and jacket were perfectly tailored to fit his slender frame and the cut itself was modern. Merlin didn’t look the slightest bit ridiculous. Arthur allowed himself to take in Merlin’s whole appearance—his polished shoes, the way the colour of the fabric leant striking intensity to his eyes, his freshly shaved face, neatly styled hair… and suppressed the urge to check his own appearance in the mirror one more time. Instead, he fiddled with his tie, though it was perfectly straight, and hoped that Merlin was as impressed by how Arthur looked as Arthur was with Merlin’s appearance.

The sound of a car horn came from out on the street.

“Ready? Our ride is here.”

“Yeah. Just need to…” Merlin grabbed his wallet off the side table by the door and tucked it into his jacket pocket. “All set.”

Arthur held the door open like a proper gentleman and debated whether or not he should compliment Merlin’s appearance. With the way he’d made fun of his suit before, would Merlin even believe him if he said something now? He suppressed a groan. It was time to stop second guessing himself. He was going to lay all his cards on the table tonight and let Merlin decide what to do with them so he might as well start now with a little honesty.

“That suit doesn’t look so stupid after all.” _Ugh_. That wasn’t what he wanted to say. He cleared his throat. When he’d first got involved with Guinevere, he’d thought admitting his feelings was difficult. That was child’s play compared to this.

“Not going to be ashamed to show up with me then?”

Arthur stopped walking, grabbed hold of Merlin’s arm to stop him too. He needed to make sure the man was paying attention.

“Of course not. Most powerful sorcerer ever? Bravest and most loyal companion in all of history? I dare anyone to claim a more impressive date.” Arthur’s stomach was in knots. His heart was working so hard, it felt like it might just give up any moment. “And as it turns out, you clean up quite nicely when you want to.”

Merlin stood there staring at him like it was too much to take in, like he’d lived so long in the shadow that he’d forgotten how to accept praise and affection.

“ _Arthur_ …”

He wished he could go ahead and tell Merlin everything right now, but Merlin looked toward the street, a faint blush rising on his cheeks, and said, “Our taxi is going to leave without us if we dally around any longer.”

“Right,” Arthur croaked, and they made their way down to the street and climbed in the backseat of the taxi.

Just as Arthur closed the door, Veronica jumped into the front passenger seat. She turned around and, pointedly ignoring Merlin, gave Arthur a big smile. The driver wasn’t sure what to do.

“Is she with you?”

“No,” Arthur and Merlin said in unison.

“We’re all going the same place. No harm in sharing,” Veronica said.

The driver confirmed the address with her and when she agreed, he set off without further consultation with his other passengers.

“What are you doing here, Veronica?”

“I’m your date, of course!”

Arthur groaned. “No. We already discussed this. I have two tickets. One is for me. One is for Merlin. There is no ticket for you.”

“You’re so thoughtless. But of course, I anticipated that.” She paused to fish into her a little bag, then held a ticket into the air. “That’s why I bought my own. But don’t worry. I’ll still dine with you, and if you’re very good, I’ll dance with you as well.”

“You can do all that with Owen. He’ll be there.” It wasn’t the sort of setting Arthur’d had in mind to introduce them, he’d been thinking more along the lines of drinks at the pub, but he’d take whatever he could get.

“I don’t want to meet him.”

“We had a deal. I do your stupid little chores and you agreed that you’d meet him. You don’t have to like him or see him ever again. Just meet the poor bloke.”

“You didn’t fulfill all my requirements.”

“Yes. Yes, I did.”

“And I say you didn’t. I’m missing a ring.”

Arthur could feel his eyes bulging. It must have rolled under a chair or something when he and Merlin had been wrestling around on the floor. “And you couldn’t have mentioned this until now, because…?” 

“I didn’t notice until yesterday afternoon. I’m very put out. It would have gone perfectly with my dress.”

Arthur groaned again, louder this time, not even trying to suppress his annoyance. She’d been planning this from the start. He wasn’t sure if she was just hoping that forcing Arthur to spend more time around her would somehow win him over or if she was deliberately trying to ruin his evening with Merlin, but either way, she’d never intended to follow through with her end of the deal and meet Owen. She’d been trying to get him to fail the whole time so that she would have an excuse to break the agreement.

Merlin seemed to be reaching the same conclusion. “Wow,” he said. “This is completely out of hand.”

Arthur gave him a pleading look. Maybe he could render her mute for the rest of the evening or something. Arthur had no such luck. She refused to shut up the entire trip and by the time they arrived at the gala, Arthur’s patience was completely exhausted. He slammed the taxi door closed and thundered off without waiting for Merlin in an attempt to outpace Veronica. Merlin jogged to catch up with him.

“I see your mood has soured quickly. Such a shame. You seemed rather excited earlier.”

“She’s ruining everything, Merlin.”

“I know she’s annoying, but I hardly see how she’s ruined everything. The night’s barely started.”

“You think she’s going to let up? She’s doing this because of you, you know.”

“Me?”

“Because I’d rather be here with you than with her.”

“You’d rather be here with just about anyone over her.”

“Well, yes. But… She sees how I… favour you. She’s jealous of you because we’re close.”

“You’re going to have to find a way to get through to her.” Merlin put his hands on Arthur’s shoulders. “If anyone can do it, you can. You’ve always had a way of inspiring the best in people.”

“Never worked with you.”

“Sure it did.” Merlin grinned. “Just not when it came to doing chores.” When Arthur still wasn’t convinced, Merlin said. “You gave me something noble and unselfish to do with my magic. Every time you talked about your vision for the future—a land where all people are treated with respect—I became more determined to help you realize your dream.”

Arthur could feel the wrinkles in his brow relaxing. “And you say I’m the one that inspires people. I don’t know how I’d keep myself together without you.”

“I guess that’s why they say we’re two sides of the same coin. We need each other.”

It was the perfect lead-in to what Arthur needed to say tonight. He was cut off before he could even begin by the clicking of high heels, an exasperated huff, and Veronica demanding that Arthur introduce her to his boss.

“Good luck.” Merlin patted him on the shoulder and wandered off leaving Arthur alone with her.

Arthur grabbed her by the arm and dragged her over to an isolated corner of the main ballroom so that her inevitable complaints wouldn’t disturb the other guests.

“James!”

“We need to talk.”

She shifted about, puffed out her chest, and tried to stand taller, though even with her high-heeled shoes, she was still several inches shorter than Arthur.

“I know you think we have some special connection.” She started to talk, but Arthur didn’t let her get a whole word out. “But whatever it is you think you feel, I don’t feel the same way.”

“But you will!”

“No,” Arthur sighed. They’d been over this so many times. He needed to come at it from a different angle. “There’s someone better out there for you.”

“Better?”

“Yes. Sometimes we grab hold of something because we want it to be right. We take a small feeling, nurture it. We tell ourselves it’s the ultimate experience, while we sit there staring at something even better, ignoring it because it doesn’t fit our expectation, or it’s too frightening, or… any number of excuses.” He paused. “I know you can feel it. Somewhere deep at your core you know I’m not right for you. That’s why you’re grasping to the idea so tightly.” He glanced over his shoulder at Merlin. “You see how I am with him. How we are together. You want that for yourself. I don’t blame you. But you’re never going to get it from me. I don’t know if Owen is the one for you, but you’ll never find out if you refuse to meet him. Just talk to him for a few minutes. If you don’t like him, what harm is there? You have nothing to lose.”

Veronica turned her nose up a fraction. “I’ll meet him just to prove you wrong.”

“That’s all I’m asking.” He looked away in relief and spotted Merlin conveniently talking with Owen. Arthur caught his eye and motioned him over, desperate to get this introduction out of the way before Veronica changed her mind.

Merlin didn’t waste any time and within moments, the four of them were standing around in a small circle.

“Veronica Hart, this is Owen Rees.” He turned to address Veronica. “I think you’ll find that the two of you get on better than you expect.”

Veronica stuck out her hand like she was being forced to surrender to a more powerful opponent. She was going to do it because she had to, not because she wanted to. Owen was undeterred. He took her hand, turned it, bend forward, and touched his lips to the back of her hand. Before he righted himself, he looked up into her eyes and said, “A pleasure to meet you, my lady.”

Arthur wasn’t sure if Merlin had coached him to say that or not, but it seemed the perfect thing. She always had liked the classic chivalrous behaviours from a man.

“Aren’t you a perfect gentleman?” And she actually smiled at him.

Arthur took that as his cue to make a swift exit. He pulled Merlin along with him by the elbow and didn’t stop until they were at the opposite corner of the room near the bar.

“Don’t the two of you make quite the couple tonight,” Wayne said while he poured a glass of wine for a middle-aged woman that Arthur recognized from previous fundraisers.

“James is finally a free man,” Merlin said while indicating behind him with his thumb.

Wayne stood up on his toes and shifted around trying to see over the crowd.

“Veronica finally found someone new to annoy, huh?”

“Maybe not annoy, but yeah, that’s about the sum of it.”

“Well, good for you, Craddock. Now you’ve got plenty of energy for someone that you actually like.”

If Merlin noticed the not-so-subtle way Wayne was looking at him, he didn’t show it.

Arthur nodded, hoping Wayne would see he had things under control on that front.

“Here.” Wayne pushed two wine glasses to the edge of the bar. “I think you should both drink to that.”

Arthur agreed, took one for himself and handed the other to Merlin. Arthur raised his glass.

“Cheers.”

They circulated around the room a few minutes then, allowing Wayne to return to his work. Robert would be happy to know what Merlin was introduced to the Boss. Not Arthur’s boss, but everyone’s boss, the Chief Constable. Fortunately, Robert was too busy schmoozing with donors to congratulate him on the wisdom of this strategic introduction. Arthur wasn’t in the mood for a lecture on how this would help secure his next promotion. Shortly after, guests were asked to be seated so that dinner could be served.

They waited until nearly the last minute to choose their seats, then selected spots that put Merlin to Arthur’s right, a quiet man Arthur had already forgotten the name of to his left, a woman that looked to be in her early seventies named Mallory Decker directly across from him, and Veronica and Owen at a separate table on the opposite side of the room. It hardly seemed to matter at this point. Veronica seemed quite happy with her date and Owen was falling all over himself to please her. Lucky for him, she lavished him with just the sort of attention he wanted.

The meal was elegant, though not worth the price he’d spent per plate. But then, it was a benefit dinner. The cost of the meal was more donation than it was to cover the expense of the food and preparation.

Midway through the meal, Merlin let out a big yawn, then apologized. Arthur could hardly blame the man. This wasn’t terribly exciting for him either. He let his arm drop below the table top, patted Merlin’s thigh just above his knee in solidarity, then decided to keep his hand there. If Merlin didn’t like it, he could easily and discretely push his hand away.

Merlin didn’t react at first, just took another bite of his sea bass, but as it became clear that Arthur wasn’t going to move his hand, Merlin turned his head toward Arthur as if to say, ‘What are you doing?’ He wasn’t upset, just curious. He had a cant to his eyebrows, like he was confused but working on the problem and determined to figure out the solution. Arthur didn’t look straight at him, kept his outward attention on Mrs. Decker, like a polite dinner party guest.

She liked to talk. She’d probably spill her whole life story if he let her. She was from Aberystwyth originally and had moved to Cardiff when she married. Her husband, who’d had been an inspector before retiring, had died a few years ago—natural causes thankfully—and she’d needed to find a charity for people to send donations to. She’d chosen this one and now she was a supporter as well.

He tightened his grip on Merlin’s leg for a long moment, squeezed the firm muscle in his palm. Just as he finished his current line of discussion with Mrs. Decker and found himself with enough courage to look Merlin in the eye, the man on Merlin’s right asked him a question and he had to look away or risk being rude. Worried that maybe the touch was unwelcome after all, he let up and finished his meal.

“I understand that you worked with Constable Lucas, is that right?” Mrs. Decker said.

“Yes.”

Arthur didn’t want to talk about Garrett, but he supposed that it was an inevitable topic of conversation at a fundraiser for the families of fallen police officers.

“Everyone is saying you were the one that apprehended his killer.”

Half the table suddenly started paying attention to their conversation. Merlin stood up, leaned over Arthur’s shoulder. “Excuse me, ma’am. James? You’re needed up front for a minute.”

Arthur gave the woman his best imitation of an apologetic smile and excused himself from the table.

When they were suitably far away, Arthur said, “Excellent timing, Merlin. If I have to go through that story one more time…”

“Yes, I could tell. I always know when you’re in need of rescuing.”

That made him sound like a damsel in distress. He’d barely got two words of his rebuttal out when Robert rushed up, apologizing to Merlin and demanding that Arthur come pose for a photo with the mayor.

He didn’t even understand why they would want him in a photo like that and tried to argue his way out of it, but Merlin said, “You’d better go.” Apparently, photo ops weren’t one of the situations Merlin thought he needed rescuing from. Arthur was inclined to disagree.

“I’ll be right back.”

He returned as quickly as he could but Merlin had wandered off. After that, he got pulled into a discussion with some wealthy potential donors and had to give them the standard spiel about why this was such a worthy cause. This was supposed to be Robert’s job, but somehow, despite all efforts to avoid it, Arthur was slowly taking on the role.

One of the younger women in the group said, “Now where is that handsome friend you were sitting with earlier?”

“That would be Merlin.” It was the perfect excuse. “Why don’t I go find him?”

The air in the ballroom was over-warm and Arthur took off his jacket and rolled his shirt sleeves up to his elbows as he found himself wandering around the room in search of his lost dinner companion. He eventually found the man through a set of doors on a small balcony that overlooked a formal garden below. Merlin leaned on the stone balcony railing with his forearms and stared off into the night.

The doors closed behind him, muting the clamour of the party. Out here the night was peaceful, quiet.

“People are asking for you.”

Merlin turned partway to look back at Arthur. “Sorry. It’s just the crowd…”

“Since when are you afraid of people?”

“Not afraid. More… irritated. I’m not used to being around so many at once.”

“You’ve spent too long by yourself.”

“Couldn’t be helped.” Merlin shrugged half-heartedly. “The person I wanted to be around most couldn’t be there.”

Arthur frowned. He didn’t like to dwell on how Merlin had spent the time between his death and resurrection. He hated the thought of him being lonely, but he also hated the idea of Merlin thinking anyone else but him was special.

Still, the comment bolstered his courage. He stepped over to the railing and leaned against it with one arm, mirroring Merlin’s posture. He knew, on some level, that Merlin felt the same way that he did, but it still felt dangerous to reach out, put his hand on Merlin’s cheek.

He’d worried about this so much, but now the moment was here, he knew what he needed to do, and it wasn’t an overly-rehearsed speech, or an elaborate declaration. His initial instincts that first evening Merlin had stayed at his flat had been right. He was a man of action after all.

Arthur brushed his thumb across the smooth skin of Merlin’s cheek, shifted his footing so he could lean in.

“ _Arthur_.” It was said as a warning, but fondly. Not, ‘Don’t do this,’ but more, ‘You don’t have to do this.’

“I’m not confused, Merlin.”

Arthur gave him plenty of time to object, to move away or say something. Merlin did none of those things. He closed his eyes, thick lashes fluttering lightly in the faint glow of the adjacent lamp.

Merlin made a faint little hum of satisfaction when their lips touched, and Arthur wanted to linger there, had to force himself to kept it brief, to give just enough of a kiss that Merlin knew what he was about but not so much to make it even more awkward than it had to be in case he was reading this all wrong and Merlin wasn’t interested in more.

When he pulled back, lips tingling pleasantly, he said, “So, what do you think? That felt nice, didn’t it?”

Merlin said, “Yeah,” his voice breathy and soft. The corners of his lips twitched up in the beginnings of a smile, but the expression quickly faded.

“Then what’s wrong?”

Arthur wasn’t the best at reading emotions sometimes, but there was definitely something. Merlin looked… scared. Arthur had seen him afraid before, of course. Usually, it was out of concern for others—for Arthur or Gaius, for the whole of Camelot. Was it making changes to a relationship that already worked so well that he feared? Was it hurting Arthur’s feelings? Breaking his heart?

Merlin had his eyes trained on the ground.

“Tell me.”

Merlin shook his head slightly. “I’m just…” Like he always did when he was afraid, he pushed his fear aside and moved past it. He brought his gaze up to look Arthur straight in the eye, said, “I’m afraid I’m forgetting how to live without you.”

Arthur let out a heavy exhale and didn’t immediately suck more air in to replace it. It felt like he’d been punched in the gut. What was he supposed to say to a man who worried about something like that?

He pulled Merlin into a tight hug and finally started breathing again. “I never wanted to leave you, and I wish I could promise that I’d never put you through that again.” He would stay with Merlin forever if he could. “But you know I can’t.” He paused, preparing himself to hear anything Merlin might have to say, steeling himself to defer to his wishes. He ended the hug but kept both hands on Merlin’s upper arms. “Do you want me to back off?”

“What? _No!_ ” It was hard to tell in the low light, but it looked like Merlin might be blushing, embarrassed, perhaps by his own enthusiasm. “I mean, no,” he said more calmly. “One thing you learn when you live as long as I have is that you have to enjoy what you have while you have it.”

“Good.” He stood there, waiting for Merlin to follow up his words with actions. When he did, it was by stepping in closer, putting a hand on Arthur’s chest, not to push him away, but to feel his presence. He trailed his hand down Arthur’s sternum, over his ribs and around his side. Arthur was a firm believer that good behaviour should be rewarded, so he leaned forward again and gave Merlin a proper, full kiss.

Merlin’s lips were rough and tasted faintly of the Carmex Arthur had forced on him last week. He slid his hand under Merlin’s jacket and around to his back while Merlin threaded his fingers through Arthur’s hair. None of Arthur’s experience or fantasies had prepared him for this. Touching Merlin in this way felt electrifying, as if he’d been living life disconnected up until now. Merlin parted his lips and for once, let Arthur lead the way without complaint. Arthur took advantage of the opportunity while it lasted, kissed Merlin like he was auditioning for his dream job, put his whole heart into it.

By the time they finally pulled apart for breath, Arthur was swaying slightly, feeling a little woozy with the excitement of it all. He hoped Merlin felt the same way. Hoped that in the distant future, it would be moments like this that would become the important things that anchored his memory when centuries worth of other people and events eroded away. Arthur tightened his grip around Merlin’s waist and rested their foreheads together to help steady himself.

“So,” Merlin said, his words warm and soft on Arthur’s lips, “those important feelings you said you were having trouble sharing earlier this week and that thing you wanted to tell me that night I couldn’t sleep… This was it?”

“Yeah.” He swallowed heavily, his throat suddenly dry. “Sorry I still haven’t actually said anything. It always has been hard to talk about, hasn’t it? Whatever this… connection is that we’ve had from the very beginning. I just— I need you to understand.” He closed his eyes. He was too close to Merlin to really see anyway, and it was easier like this, safer. “All that time we were apart. You weren’t the only one that was lonely. Even back in Avalon, there were these moments where I was… less asleep. It was like I could feel your absence.”

“I’m sorry.”

Arthur leaned back so that Merlin could see him shaking his head, so he would know how much of an idiot Arthur thought he was being. “What on earth are you apologizing for?”

“Freya warned me that I was disturbing you.”

_Who?_

“Doesn’t matter.” The muted sounds of the band starting up made its way through the closed balcony doors. “We should get back.”

Merlin hesitated, gave a disgruntled little quirk of his lips.

“Come on. If you don’t argue with me for once, maybe I’ll introduce you as my better half.”

Arthur froze as he realized what he’d just said. He _still_ hadn’t managed to say all the words he wanted, yet that sort of thing slipped out without thought? What if Merlin wasn’t ready for that yet? Just because he was on board with this new direction for their relationship didn’t mean he wanted to charge ahead full bore. Anything might feel fast compared to being stuck in one place for hundreds of years. And all they’d done so far was kiss. Arthur hadn’t even verbally confessed to anything more than missing him when they were apart. Public declarations of a status they hadn’t even discussed? That definitely seemed like it might be too much for him at this point. Arthur needed a way to fix this. “I mean…”

“ _Better_ half,” Merlin mused. “I think I like that.” He grinned.

Arthur rolled his eyes. “It’s just a saying, _Merlin_.”

“But then, I suppose it’s only natural. After all, of the two of us, I’m not the one with a propensity for being a clotpole. I’m also much smarter and far more handsome.”

Merlin was clearly joking, but Arthur wasn’t. He said, “All true.”

Merlin looked at him with a sort of soft, sappy expression that made Arthur want to roll his eyes again, maybe hurl a few insults, but then Merlin’s lip twitched, and he said, “I’m funnier, too.”

“No, that’s where I draw the line.”

Merlin tipped his head back and laughed, giving Arthur a good view of the long, tempting lines of his neck. They really needed to get back to the party before Arthur wanted to do more than just kiss him. ~~~~

When Merlin settled down, he said, “Arthur, seriously though. Are you really going to tell people tonight?”

“Is there a reason I shouldn’t? Do you not want me to?”

“No, that’s not it. I just thought… A lot of your friends are here. They might be a bit surprised. Maybe a crowded benefit dinner isn’t the best place for that conversation.”

“Trust me, Merlin. No one will be surprised. None of my friends anyway.”

“Really?”

“They’ve been hassling me about you for weeks now. Cade insists on referring to you as my boyfriend.”

“That’s… a weird word. Very, erm… modern.”

“Yeah, I know, but it’s something they can understand. I can’t exactly tell them you’re the other side of my coin, or however it was that your dragon friend phrased it.”

“No, I suppose not.”

Arthur glanced back toward the party. “You ready, then?”

Merlin nodded and Arthur ushered him back into the ballroom with a hand pressed gently along his spine. Along the west wall, Owen and Veronica were one of the few couples making use of the dance floor. They looked oblivious to everyone else around them.

“Owen and Veronica look happy.”

“Feels good that we helped them along.”

“We’re happy too, aren’t we?”

Merlin took his hand, gave it a light squeeze. “Yeah, I really think we are.”


	8. The Sleepy Sorcerer Incident

Merlin sat next to Arthur in the back of the taxi, his head drifting down. They’d left the gala early despite Robert’s attempts to convince them to stay a little longer. Merlin looked exhausted, and Arthur had never been keen on going in the first place. On their way out, Wayne had given Arthur a conspicuous thumbs-up and a rather disturbing eyebrow maneuver that made Arthur wonder if he’d managed to see the two of them kiss or if he’d just somehow noticed a change in their behaviour.

“Wake up, Merlin.”

Merlin jerked back into an upright position. “I’m awake.”

“Sure, you are now.”

“I wasn’t sleeping.”

“What do you call it then? Resting your eyes?”

“Mmm.”

“Did Wayne ply you with drinks while I wasn’t looking?”

“Not drunk,” Merlin mumbled. “Just tired.”

“Seriously, Merlin. What’s with you these days? It’s only half nine and you’re dead on your feet.”

“It’s no big deal. I get tired sometimes, that’s all.”

“If you ask me—”

“No one is asking y—”

“— _I_ think you’re getting _too much_ sleep. And not enough physical activity. You should wake up early tomorrow. Come for a jog with me.”

Merlin snorted at the suggestion.

“I’ll go slow enough that even a weakling like you can keep up.”

“That sort of coercion doesn’t work on me.”

“Oh, come on. It would be fun.”

“I think we’ve already established that you have a strange sense of fun.”

Arthur tried keeping Merlin alert by engaging in more conversation, but it didn’t help and by the time they got home, Merlin was barely able to keep his feet under him.

Arthur steered Merlin into his bedroom and when he fell face first into the mattress, Arthur had to haul him back up to strip out of his new suit.

Merlin had already undone his tie and the jacket was easy enough to help with, but Arthur quickly found that the skill of undressing oneself did not directly transfer to undressing another person. He helped mostly by folding the trousers and hanging them with the suit jacket and waistcoat in Merlin’s wardrobe.

Arthur moved Merlin’s hands to the buttons of his shirt, prompting him to that part himself, while Arthur removed his cufflinks. Merlin let out a soft little giggle.

“What?” Arthur said.

“You’re flipping everything around. I’m supposed to be the one helping you like this.”

“I guess after undressing me thousands of times it’s finally my turn to repay the favour.”

When he turned back from depositing Merlin’s cufflinks into a box on the bedside table, Merlin was face down on the bed in nothing but his pants and a thin grey vest that had ridden up to expose a strip of skin above his waistband. It shouldn’t be a big deal. Arthur had seen him in nothing but his skin before, but that was a long time ago and things were different now. It was hard to peel his eyes away. Arthur wanted to crawl into bed next to him, be as close as possible.

A shiver ran down Merlin’s body and snapped Arthur back into his proper role at the moment. He sighed. “You’re going to use up all our blankets.” Arthur retrieved the heaviest blanket off his bed and returned to cover Merlin with it.

As he draped the blanket over Merlin’s body, a pale scar on his back caught Arthur’s attention. It was small, circular, and off to the side above his hip. Arthur bent down for a closer look, let his fingers brush against the long-healed skin. He hadn’t realized that Merlin scarred at all. He’d taken that nasty cut to his forehead last week and just as he’d promised, he’d healed completely in less than a day with no scar to be seen no matter how closely Arthur looked.

“What happened to you?” He’d have to ask again when Merlin was actually awake.

He sat on the edge of the bed a few minutes, watching the man sleep, then took Merlin’s phone from the bedside table, gently commandeered the man’s thumb to unlock the device, and turned off the 7am alarm. He was just going to sleep through it anyway.

Arthur wished he could convince himself that it would help Merlin sleep if he were to lie down with him, but he knew that wasn’t how it would work. He’d probably steal his blanket and disturb his sleep. That was the last thing Merlin needed.

He grabbed a pen and paper off the bedside table, wrote out a note for Merlin to find in the morning.

Sleepyhead,  
I’ve got smallbore practice with the team again this morning. Meet me at the range when I’m done. Don’t worry. I won’t make you practice your shooting. I just want to take you out for lunch. No big crowds, I promise.  
-A

If the weather was nice tomorrow, maybe they could even have their lunch outdoors. There was a nice park near the shooting range that seemed like the sort of place Merlin would like.

Between work, that cryptic prophecy, and whatever this strange fatigue was that Merlin stubbornly refused to address, Arthur still had nearly as many problems as he’d had just a few hours ago, but all that dwarfed in comparison to the residual feeling of Merlin’s kisses on his lip. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d been looking forward to what the future might hold as much as he did in that moment. The anticipation kept him awake long into the night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story will continue with part 3 of the series. I haven't worked out the title yet, but it is partially inspired by the 9th century Welsh poem _Preiddeu Annfwyn,_ where Arthur takes his men on a raid to the underworld in search of a cauldron that is basically a precursor to the Holy Grail. Thanks so much for reading!


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